


Two Dead Guys, a Girl, and a Psychic

by moondragon23



Series: Growing Up [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: F/M, Humor, Minor Angst, Mystery, Series Spoilers, Sleep-deprived Shawn, Some Romance, Whump, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 75,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is great for Shawn Spencer. He has a cool job, a smart, beautiful girlfriend, and gets to hang with his best friend all day. What more could a guy want? When he gets his next two cases, a dead chemistry professor and a girl looking for her father, it looks like business as usual. Too bad things never go that simply when Shawn is involved. REWRITE OF TWO DEAD GUYS AND A GIRL!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flashback

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> As the summary says, this is a rewrite of my first story, Two Dead Guys and a Girl. I was bit by the rewrite bug awhile back and since today marks one year since I first posted the original story I thought it would be the right time to start posting the rewrite. I'll be posting updates once a week.
> 
> There are no major plot changes. I mostly polished what was there and added a few new scenes. I also fleshed out Nikki's character better in preparation for the sequel I'm still working on. I hope those you read the original like this updated version just as much.
> 
> This first chapter is short but I promise the others will be longer. Think of it of a teaser for next week's update.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Santa Barbara, 1992_

 

Fifteen year old Shawn Spencer slouched in a chair outside the principal's office. His jean clad legs were stretched out in front of him, while his arms were crossed over a Whitesnake t-shirt. His hazel eyes gazed around the outer office from under tousled brown hair.

He saw the secretary fiddling with her wedding ring and noticed her red-rimmed eyes. He wondered if she was fighting with her husband again. Judging by the pile of used tissues in the trash can, it must have been serious. He remembered her looking at a receipt the last time he had been called down here. A quick glance had shown it was for a midday meal for two people, paid in cash. She would have been in school at the time, so it was likely her husband's receipt.Putting all the clues together, he guessed she had finally confronted her husband about the affair.

He leaned his head back against the wall, listening for any sounds coming from the inner office. His father was in there right now, talking with the principal. He didn't see what the big deal was. No one had gotten hurt and the scorch marks were barely visible.

“He did what?” his father yelled, his voice easily penetrating the thin walls. Shawn sighed dejectedly. He and Gus had been planning on crashing Stacey Cremer's party this weekend. Her parents were out of town and it would be a good warm up for the bigger party in a couple weeks.

Of course, his dad wouldn't have let him go either way. His plan had been to sneak out after his parents went to bed. Now his dad would be keeping a closer watch on him, torpedoing that plan.

Henry Spencer exited the office, fuming. He was still dressed in his work attire of a suit and tie, holster visible through the open jacket. His face was red, the color reaching up his forehead and through his thinning blond hair. “Let's go, Shawn,” he said sharply.

Shawn levered himself out of the chair and followed the angry form of his father out the door.

The car ride home was tense and uncomfortable. Henry stayed silent until he had parked the car in the driveway. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked furiously, turning to look at Shawn. “Someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“But they didn't,” Shawn countered. “It was only supposed to be a small reaction. I had Gus double check everything. _He_ said it would be fine.” He wasn't quite sure what had gone wrong, only that the 'small reaction' had turned into a 'small fire.' He had put it out before it spread anywhere but instead of being praised for his heroics he was denounced as a villain. Gus shouting it was his fault certainly hadn't helped any.

“Don't blame Gus. You're smart enough to have known better,” Henry said testily. “Your little stunt just got you suspended for a week.” He got out of the car, then bent back down to look at Shawn. “ _And_ grounded for a month.”

“A month!?” Shawn gasped. Andrea Stohl's party was in two weeks. He had finally managed to score an invitation after weeks of persistent nagging. If he didn't show up, he was destined to be a social outcast for the rest of high school. He scrambled out of the car. “Dad, that's not fair! It was just a little prank.”

“Life isn't fair,” Henry said shortly. “It's about time you learned that.” He turned and headed into the house.

“You're just trying to ruin my life,” Shawn yelled after him.He stood there angrily for a moment before following his dad inside. “Why can't you just leave me alone?”

“I'm your father,” Henry said. “It's my job to make sure you turn into a responsible adult.”

“Like you?” Shawn said scornfully. “Maybe I don't want to be a cop. Maybe I don't care that the secretary's husband is cheating on her. Maybe I just want to be a normal, irresponsible kid.”

“You can't be a kid forever,” his dad said. “You have to grow up sometime.”

“Maybe I don't want to grow up,” Shawn said petulantly. He ran up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.


	2. A Typical Day in the Life of a Psychic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is like a box of chocolates. Sometimes you get the creamy raspberry filling, sometimes you get the nougat that gets stuck to your teeth.
> 
> Sometimes you plan on posting a chapter before work but then trip over the vacuum cleaner and land on your bad knee.
> 
> Point is, you never know what is going to happen next.

_Santa Barbara, 2013_

 

_Monday_

 

The morning light shone down on the city. Its warm glow illuminated the coastal streets and the string of buildings along the boardwalk. At the end of one building, with a particularly nice view of the beach, there was a business with bright green lettering on the window. A peek inside would have revealed something that looked more like a college dorm room than the office of a detective agency.

Most people were at work at this time of day, but a few were walking the boardwalk or lounging on the beach, enjoying the beautiful weather. The calm ocean and brilliant blue sky combined to create a peaceful, relaxing atmosphere.

This idyllic setting was shattered by the sound of gunshots and screaming coming from the detective's office.

“Shawn!” Burton Guster, aka Gus, yelled as his character died for the ninth time. He was wearing gray slacks and a pink shirt that worked nicely with his cocoa brown skin tone. His shaved head gleamed as he turned to look at his friend. “We're on the same team! Could you please stop killing me?”

Shawn, best friend and assassin, smirked. He looked much as he did in high school, still clad in jeans and a t-shirt. He had refined the carefully tousled look for his hair and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Sorry dude, guess you just keep getting in the way. Besides,” he said with a positively evil grin, “you make it too easy.” His grin faded as on screen his character exploded from a plasma grenade. “Dude, that is so not cool.”

“You reap what you sow Shawn,” Gus stated with a satisfied smirked.

“Um, excuse me?”

Shawn turned around. Standing behind them was a teenage girl wearing a blue t-shirt and white-washed jeans with a hole in the left knee. She had long brunette hair held back in a pony tail, hazel eyes, and was looking at them in confusion.

“I'm looking for Shawn Spencer. The newspaper article said he works here. Am I in the right place?” She glanced around the office. “This is Psych, _right_?” A couch was situated under the front window underneath the green Psych logo. Two desks stood opposite each other in the center of the room. The one on the right was neat and organized. The one on the left was cluttered with junk. She looked back at the two guys sitting on another couch in front of a plasma screen, playing video games. Clearly nothing about the place said 'psychic detective' to her.

“You've come to the right place,” Shawn said, standing up. On screen his character died in a bloody ambush by the opposing team. He winced but continued. “I am Shawn Spencer, psychic detective.” He came around the couch and held out a hand for her to shake.

She took it carefully, letting go as soon as she could. Shawn noticed the way she kept a couple of feet between them as a safety zone and watched him closely. She was younger than he first thought, probably only fourteen or fifteen, though she acted as if she was older.

She gestured behind him at the television screen. “A psychic who plays Halo?”

“It happens to be very good for honing hand eye coordination skills,” Gus said in defense. He got up as well and turned off the game.

“Plus my psychic ability allows me to 'see' where the enemy soldiers are before I run into them.” Shawn started raising his hand to his head in his classic psychic gesture. Gus slapped his arm before he could complete it.

“Wouldn't Silent Scope be a better game for developing hand eye coordination?” the girl asked. She mimed shooting at imaginary targets in demonstration but quickly stopped at their amused looks. She rubbed her left arm as she blushed slightly. “Well, it would,” she said defensively.

“Yes, but then I wouldn't get to team up with my best bud. Team work is an important part of any investigation,” Shawn said seriously.

“They why do you keep killing me, Shawn?” Gus asked, disgruntled.

“To remind you to _always_ be aware of your surroundings, and to never take anyone at face value,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, whatever Shawn.” Gus muttered. He put the controllers away and came around the couch to stand next to Shawn.

“Okay,” the girl said slowly, brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at them. She shook her head and took a deep breath, her expression turning serious. “I need help finding someone.”

He and Gus exchanged a look. “If this is about a missing person, you should contact the police,” Gus started.

“No! No police!” she said vehemently. Shawn was a little taken aback by her outburst. He glanced at Gus, who looked worriedly back at him. She continued on hurriedly. “I mean, I've heard about all the cases you've solved. Surely you're good enough to solve the case on your own?” There was a hint of a challenge in her voice, which, along with her hopeful look, made him instantly decide to take this case.

“Why don't you sit down and tell us what you know?” Shawn gestured to the couch by the window. As she walked over to it and sat down, Gus pulled him aside.

“I don't like this,” Gus said, turning his back on the girl. He looked at Shawn seriously. “Did you see her reaction when I mentioned the police? I'm not getting mixed up in anything illegal, Shawn. Not again. And don't you think she should be in school right now? It's the middle of the day.”

“Gus, don't be a nervous Nelly,” he teased.He paused as a thought struck him. “That's a weird phrase. Who is Nelly? Any relation to the rapper?” He grinned at Gus. “What a dilemma.”

“Shawn, focus,” Gus said, giving him a shove.

He sighed. “We'll at least hear her out,” he bargained. “Kids ditch school all the time. And maybe there's a perfectly innocent reason she doesn't want the police involved.” Gus snorted doubtfully. “We haven't had a case in over two weeks. Or. . .” He smirked at Gus. “I can continue kicking your butt in Halo.”

Gus glared at him. “Fine,” he said finally. “But I'm going on record as being against this.”

“Noted,” he said, turning around. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite the girl. Gus followed and stood behind him. “As I said I'm Shawn Spencer, and this is my associate, the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” she asked, puzzled.

He turned to Gus with a triumphant grin. “See, I told you I could get someone to say it!”

“You don't even watch that show Shawn.” Gus turned to the girl. “I'm Burton Guster,” he said extending his hand. “Could you tell us your name?”

“My name is Nicole Peterson,” she said, shaking his hand just as quickly as she had with Shawn. “But everyone calls me Nikki.”

“Well Nikki,” Shawn said, turning back to the girl. “Who is it you are looking for?”

“Well, that's the thing,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “I'm not sure _who_ exactly I'm looking for.”

Shawn could _feel_ Gus thinking 'I told you so.' “Can you tell us anything about them?” He was hoping she didn't want him to 'sense' who the missing person was. It was so much more work.

She sighed, looking down. “He's my dad,” she said quietly.

He looked over at Gus. His friend shook his head no, but Shawn wasn't so sure. Something about this didn't feel right. “Is your father missing?” he inquired.

“Not exactly,” she said, looking up. He was startled by the sadness in her eyes. She blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by grim determination. “Look, it's really important that I find him.”

He hesitated. This was looking more like a police matter by the minute. “I'm not sure this is really our type of case,” he said uncertainly.

A look of resignation crossed her face. “I understand,” she said quietly. She slowly got up and headed for the door.

“Wait!” he called out. Gus was really going to kill him, but he couldn't ignore someone in need. If she wasn't going to go to the police, that left it up to him to help her. “We'll need some more information to track him down.” He wanted until Nikki was seated again. “When was the last time you saw him?”

She gave a short laugh. “That's the problem. I've never actually met him.”

Gus nudged him. He ignored him. “Do you know his name?”

“Umm, no,” she said, looking embarrassed. “My mom never mentioned him by name.”

“How about what he looks like?” he asked, hoping for at least a vague description.

“No,” she said again. She looked at him apologetically. “She only knew him for one night so there aren't even any pictures of him.”

“Do you know where he lives?” he asked, grasping at straws now.

“Sort of?” she said hesitantly.

He was relieved at this point for any information he could get. “Sort of is good. We can work with sort of.”

“Well,” she said, perking up now that she had something to share, “I know he was in Columbia, North Carolina in 1997. And I know he was originally from Santa Barbara.”

“That's not much to go on,” he said with a sigh. He looked at her carefully. “Have you tried asking your mother about him?” There must be a reason the mother was being so tight-lipped about her father.

Nikki hesitated. “We haven't been on speaking terms these last couple of weeks,” she said after a moment. “She would never tell me much about him anyway.” He thought he saw tears in her eyes. She blinked and cleared her throat. “But that shouldn't be a problem right? You're a psychic; I'm sure you've solved cases with less information.” She looked at him hopefully.

“Um, Shawn?” said Gus. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Give me one second,” he said, giving her a kind smile.

She nodded. “Take your time,” she said, getting comfortable on the couch. “I'll wait.”

He got up and led Gus a few steps away so their conversation wouldn't be overheard. “What?”

“Dude, something is not right here.” Gus stated. “How are we supposed to find someone with no information? I think she's hiding something.” He glanced over at Nikki. She noticed and waved. He turned back to Shawn and continued. “Whatever she's messed up in I want no part of it. I say we forget she was ever here.”

“But she is here,” he said emphatically. He gave Gus a determined look. “She came to us for help and who are we to turn her away?” He pulled Gus back another couple of steps. “I agree, there's more going on than she's telling us,” he continued quietly. “What if she's in real trouble? Who else is going to help her?”

“Fine,” said Gus, exasperated. “But you're on your own with this one.” He walked over to his desk and sat down.

Shawn returned to Nikki. “We'll take the case,” he said as he sat down.

She looked relieved. “Thank you.” She hesitated, “I know you sometimes work for the police department. Can you promise you won't mention to anyone I asked for your help?” She looked up at him pleadingly.

He hesitated before answering. “Look, are you in some kind of trouble? Because we have a policy against helping criminals.” Gus snorted at that. Shawn turned and gave him a look, clearly telling him to shut it.

“It's nothing like that,” she answered hurriedly. “It's just I'm only fifteen and I don't want any of this getting back to my mom.” For a second, he thought he saw pain flicker over her face. Then it was gone and she laughed nervously. “She may have expressly forbidden me from looking for him.”

 _Defying a parent,_ _I can relate to that_. “Okay Miss Peterson,” he said, standing up. “We'll let you know when we have something.” Behind him, the office phone began to ring. Gus answered it. “How can we contact you?”

“I'll just stop by tomorrow to see what you found out,” she said, standing also. “Thank you again for agreeing to help me.” She paused as she turned to leave. “Also, I don't think it's very sporting to kill your own teammate,” she said, pointing to where the two had been playing Halo. She gave him a cheeky smile. “I would think a psychic would be able to outsmart his friend without resorting to violence.” With that she left.

“What a strange girl,” he said to himself. There was something about the way she looked when she smiled at him. It seemed almost familiar.

“That was the Chief,” Gus said, hanging up the phone. “We have a case.”

“Two cases in one day? That's great. To the Blueberry!” he shouted, using the nickname for Gus's little blue Echo. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “What is it this time? A murder? Buried treasure? Ooo, maybe we'll have to go undercover as ninjas to break up an international league of assassins.” Nikki's case went to the back of his mind as he wondered what adventure the police department had for them this time.

* * *

In the car, Gus filled Shawn in on what the chief had told him over the phone.

“It seems a chemist at UC Santa Barbara was found dead in his lab a couple of days ago,” Gus said. “Something went wrong with one of his experiments. It looks accidental, but since he's a prominent scientist, the chief wants your opinion.”

“A chemist. . . aren't those the people who turn lead into gold?” Shawn asked, getting excited. “Dude, do you think we can demand our fee in gold?”

“That's alchemy, Shawn,” he corrected. He could almost predict what Shawn would say next.

“Isn't that the study of fortunes based on stars?” Shawn asked.

“No, that's astrology,” he said. _Next he'll go on about astronomy. Didn't we already do this with the planetarium case?_

“Isn't that the study of stars?” Shawn asked. He would swear he saw Shawn hiding a grin.

“Chemistry is the study of matter,” he stated, bringing an end to the argument. “This chemist was trying to create a new plastic polymer when he died.”

“Sounds boring. So what about the accident?” Shawn asked excitedly. “Was there a huge explosion? Was anything left of the lab? Oh, I bet there was only a shadow left on the wall in the shape of his body.” He started bouncing in his seat like a little kid.

“Actually the chemicals created a toxic gas that knocked him out and killed him within minutes,” he said. Beside him, Shawn slumped down in the seat, deflated. Gus shook his head. “You need to grow up.”

“Never!” Shawn stated emphatically. “Oh, look! A doggie,” he squealed, pointing to a man walking his bulldog down the street. “Isn't it cute Gus?” Shawn punched him in the shoulder. “Zidge dog!”

Gus sighed. While he had grown used to Shawn's antics over the many years they had been friends, he sometimes wished he acted more mature. Shawn was thirty-six; he wasn't a kid anymore. It was time he started acting his age.

* * *

Almost as soon as Shawn and Gus entered the police station, they ran into Juliet O'Hara. She was dressed in a gray pantsuit and her new short haircut gave the blond detective an overall tougher appearance. Which Shawn just happened to find incredibly attractive.

“Hey sweetie,” he said to his girlfriend. He pulled Juliet around the corner and, after checking to make sure no one was looking, gave her a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

“Shawn, it's only been a couple of hours,” she said exasperatedly. However, she looked pleased by the attention.

“Really? I could have sworn it was longer,” he said, letting out a long suffering sigh. He gave Juliet a despairing look. “The hours without you are just bleak and empty.” He slumped as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Gus snorted. Shawn shoved him, the weight of the world magically lifting.

“Well, as fun as it is to see you,” Juliet said, laughing, “I am working. Was there a point to this visit?”

“As a matter of fact there is,” Shawn said. He puffed up his chest importantly. “It seems the Chief needs our help on another case.”

“That's great! What case?” she asked eagerly. He was about to respond when Carlton Lassiter's voiced echoed down the hallway.

“O'Hara! Where's that file?” Lassiter's voice was full of frustration as he called for his partner.

She winced. “I have to go. We'll talk later.” She looked at him seriously. “Lassiter and I have a heavy caseload right now and he's been very grouchy today. Please try not to annoy him anymore.”

“Anymore?” Shawn pouted. “But I haven't _done_ anything yet.” Annoying Lassiter was one of his favorite pastimes at the station.

“Just being here annoys him,” she said. She then hurried away, calling back over her shoulder, “Play nice Shawn.”

He watched her leave, before turning to Gus. “Let's not keep the Chief waiting.”

As they headed to the Chief's office, he spied Lassiter sitting at his desk. “Hey, you go on ahead, I'll catch up,” he said, slipping behind a pillar.

“Shawn! Remember what Juliet said,” Gus admonished him. Shawn shushed him, watching Lassiter to see if he had heard their conversation. Gus sighed and headed into Chief Vick's office.

Shawn peeked around the pillar. _Good_ , _Lassiter didn't hear anything_. He stealth-fully made his way to Lassiter's desk, ducking behind pillars, next to desks, and once behind a particularly large cop. Finally he made it behind Lassiter.

The 6'1'' detective had his lean frame hunched over his desk, reading a case file. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, which lately had been showing more salt. He appeared completely focused on the file.

Shawn leaned in and stood silently behind Lassiter, breathing quietly. As he waited for the detective to notice him, he read the file Lassiter was reviewing over his shoulder.

Lassiter remained oblivious to his presence for a few moments. Then he seemed to realize someone was behind him. He turned around to come face to face with Shawn.

“Hiya Lassie” he whispered, grinning at the surprised look on Lassiter's face.

Lassiter jumped. “God dammit Spencer!” he swore. “Do you know how incredibly annoying that is?” He turned back to the file he was working on. “I don't have time for your juvenile antics today.”

“Yes, I heard you have a big case load,” Shawn said. He came around and sat on the edge of Lassiter's desk, ignoring the detective's glare.He put his hand to his head, closed his eyes, and started waving his arm about. He called up the details about the case Lassiter was working on. Judging by his notes, Lassiter expected the brother. The quick glance Shawn had of the file told him this wasn't the case. “Including one involving domestic violence and a dead husband.” He frowned in concentration. “I'm also sensing the brother is a dead end,” he said, opening his eyes.

“Enough Spencer,” Lassiter growled as Shawn almost hit him in the head. Shawn could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Lassiter tugged a folder out from under him, almost unseating him from the desk. “Don't you think it's about time you grew up?”

“Man, why is everyone telling me that today?” he asked. He ducked off the desk as Lassiter tried to swat him with the folder.

“Mr. Spencer,” said Chief Karen Vick, coming out of her office. She was an older woman of small stature, but the force of her presence overcame any obstacle her height posed.Right now, she looked annoyed. “My office. Now.” She headed back inside.

“Run along Spencer and let the big boys do some real work,” Lassiter said with a smirk.

Shawn walked towards the office. “By the way,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm sensing the neighbor did it. He seems very concerned with the wife's well-being.” There were several domestic disturbance calls made by the neighbor. He had tried, unsuccessful, and on several occasions, to convince the wife to file a charges against her husband. He also was home alone during the time of the attack. Shawn stopped out of sight to watch the detective's reaction.

“Son of a bitch,” Lassiter cursed, looking the file over. “He's right. O'Hara!” He got up, meeting Juliet in the middle of the bullpen and thrusting the file at her. “Call the neighbor in again for questioning.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed before heading towards the break room.

 _Mission accomplished._ Grinning to himself, he entered the chief's office. “Chief, what is happening?” He saw Gus, seated in a chair in front of the desk, roll his eyes.

“Sit down Mr. Spencer,” the Chief said sternly, giving him a hard look. “I'd appreciate it if you conducted yourself with some dignity while in my station, and stop interfering with my detectives while they are working.”

“I don't call it interference when I do their work for them,” he said with a grin, taking a seat next to Gus. He leaned over towards his friend. “Maybe if we ask real nicely, she'll let Lassie come out and play,” he said in a loud whisper.

“Mr. Spencer, you may want to think about acting in a more _mature_ manner,” Vick said, her annoyance peaking. “We are not in the business of hiring juveniles to work on cases.”

Shawn winced. He had pushed the chief a little too far this time. “That hurt, chief, but I'll try to take your advice under advisement.” He sat up straighter in the chair and did his best to look mature.

“See that you do,” Vick said with a sigh. She handed over a case file to Gus. He perused it quickly, then passed it along to Shawn. “The victim is Jeffrey Sanders, forty-five, a chemistry professor at UC Santa Barbara. He was found dead in his laboratory Saturday night. ME states cause of death was asphyxiation. As there were no physical signs on the body, we suspect he inhaled fumes from one of his experiments. We're waiting on lab results to confirm. CSI said a couple of the beakers were mislabeled and are looking into the possible resulting reactions. I'm inclined to rule it an accidental death but since he's a prominent scientist I wanted you to take a look first.” She looked at Shawn expectantly.

He glanced through the file. Ignoring the written statements for now, he focused on the crime scene photos. There was Sanders, dead on the floor, his experiment still set up on the table. There were several shots of the lab, which was extremely neat and organized. Nearly every item in the lab had a little white label attached to it.

Another shot showed the table top where the experiment took place. Shawn squinted at the bottles. A couple of the beakers had labels that seemed slightly askew and wrinkled. The labels on everything else in the lab were perfectly straight and smooth.

Shawn shut the file. He closed his eyes and held his hand over it, as if trying to sense what happened. “I'm getting something,” he said, eyes still closed. “I'm seeing letters, letters and numbers.” He started waving his hand through the air as if writing something. “H2O, H2SO4, NH4, HCH4,” he said, recalling that the labels for the last two chemicals had seemed off. He wrote out each set of letters as he said them.

Gus, knowing he had discovered something, spoke up, “Those are all common laboratory chemicals.”

“Yes,” he said, opening his eyes and pointing to Gus. “I'm also seeing little white bits of paper. Name tags if you will. But there's something wrong with them. The tag says Cindy. She's a fun girl, gets along well with others. A party girl, if you will.” He gave the Chief a knowing look, unable to help himself. Her nostrils flared angrily, so he hurriedly continued. “But wait,” he said, looking bewildered. “This isn't Cindy. It's Tony. And Tony has a temper. He's a bit, _explosive_ , if you will,” He started acting as if someone was trying to stab him. “No Tony, don't kill me.” He wrestled with his imaginary opponent, falling to the floor.

“What does all this mean Mr. Spencer?” Vick asked, cutting short the performance.

He pretended to snap out of vision, lying on the floor panting for a moment. He got up and collapsed into the chair beside Gus.

“Check the bottles that were mislabeled,” he said, a little out of breath. These acts were more tiring than they used to be. “I have a very strong feeling our victim did not label those bottles himself. This wasn't an accident.” He leaned in and said dramatically, “This was murder.”

Vick eyed him silently for several moments. “I'll have someone check on those bottles,” she said finally. “If we find signs of tampering, I'll put you on the case.”

“Great,” he said, clapping his hands together. He stood up. “We'll be awaiting your call. Come on Gus.” He turned to leave.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick called after him. “Remember what we discussed.”

“Of course Chief,” he said, heading out the door. He heard Gus sigh as he followed after him. “Let's go watch Lassie pretend I didn't solve his case for him,” Shawn suggested as they walked through the bullpen.

“How about we do what the Chief said and leave Lassiter alone?” Gus asked. “We can't afford to lose any cases because you can't behave. We have a rent to pay and an electric bill due next week. Let's just head back to the office and start researching the Sanders guy.” He gave Shawn a stern look.

Shawn wilted under Gus's gaze. “Aw man, you're no fun.” Nevertheless, he followed Gus out of the police station incident free. He kept quiet until they got to the car. “Gus,” he asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Yes Shawn?” Gus answered, his voice wary.

“Would it be too immature to hit a smoothie place before getting to work?” he asked, struggling to keep up the innocent act.

Gus considered this. “Well, I suppose not,” he said, unlocking the car and getting inside.

“Great!” he said, getting in. “There's this new smoothie place on State Street that makes pineapple smoothies with _pineapple_ shaped sprinkles. Imagine Gus, pineapple shaped sprinkles.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

Gus sighed. “Like working with a five year old,” he muttered. Shawn pretended not to hear him.

* * *

Later that night, Shawn and Juliet were cleaning up after dinner. Shawn was still surprised how easily he and Juliet were able to fit into each other's lives. Even cleaning up went smoothly, neither person getting in the others way, as if it was a choreographed dance. They had a rule against discussing work over dinner, so this was the first chance he had to talk to Juliet about the cases.

“So Jules,” he said, rinsing the last plate, “were you able to get a confession out of the neighbor?”

She was putting the leftovers away in the fridge. She turned and looked at him in surprise. “How did you know about that case?”

He brought his hand to his head. “I'm a psychic Jules, remember? I'm also sensing Lassie wasn't pleased about the confession.” He looked to her for confirmation as he started drying the dishes.

She shook her head. “I am still amazed by what you can do sometimes.” She crossed behind him and grabbed a second towel. As she reached for a plate, she continued. “As a matter of fact he did confess, and Carlton did seem rather upset over it, which is surprising considering how much he wanted to put this case to bed.” Beside her, he hid a smile, glad that his hunch had been correct. “He was even more upset when the Chief gave us the Sanders case.” She looked at Shawn proudly. “Apparently our resident psychic had a vision it was murder.”

The Chief had called a couple of hours after he left the station. Most of the bottles only showed a single set of fingerprints, matching the victim. However, the mislabeled bottles also showed a second, unknown set of prints, causing the chief to believe he was right and someone had tampered with those bottles.

He put the last plate away and turned to Juliet. “I can't help what the spirit world decides to tell me. They had information to share about the Sanders case and who am I to ignore that?” He gave her a helpless look.

She rolled her eyes. “I'm just glad you're on the case,” she said, leading the way into the living room. “It means we get to work together.” They sat on the couch next to each other. As he reached for the remote, she said, “Besides, you haven't had any cases in over two weeks.”

“Yeah, it has been rather slow lately,” he agreed, turning on the TV. He started flipping through channels, looking for something good to watch. “It seems things are picking up again. We even got a case this morning at Psych.”

“Really?” she asked, looking interested. “What about?”

He paused on a cop drama. After a few seconds he said, “It was the landlord,” and continued flipping channels. To Juliet, he said, “A girl came in wanting us to find out who her birth father is. Seems her mother is very tight lipped about him and won't tell her anything. She thought a psychic might be able to track him down. Ooo, _Jaws_.” He stopped flipping channels as he came across the classic film.

Juliet frowned. “That doesn't seem like a case you would typically take,” she said slowly. “What did Gus have to say about it?”

He snorted. “What do you think? He was against it. Especially since she's only fifteen and I don't think she can pay us.”

“Then why did you take the case?” she asked quizzically.

He sighed, fiddling with the remote. “There was just something about her,” he said, not able to meet Juliet's eyes. “She was clearly very upset about something, though she hid it well. Finding her father seemed very important to her. I figured I should at least see what I can find. I just couldn't turn her away.” He could feel himself blushing slightly from embarrassment.

Juliet surprised him by leaning over and giving him a kiss. He looked at her in confusion when she pulled away. “What was that for?”

“For agreeing to help her,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “For being the kind of man who would help a complete stranger because it was the right thing to do.” She gave him another kiss before turning back to the television.

They watched the movie silently for a few moments. “Jules” he said quietly. She turned to look at him. “I. . .” He cleared his throat, unsure what to say. “Thanks,” he said lamely.

She leaned in closer. “No problem.” They stared at each other, the tension building, before Shawn leaned in and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and moist. He ran his tongue lightly along them, earning a soft moan. He fumbled with the remote, eventually managing to turn the TV off. Throwing it on the table, he pulled Juliet closer to him, deepening the kiss. He cupped her face with his hand, fingers curling in her hair, while the other caressed her side. She responded by straddling him, pushing him back into the couch. She nipped playfully at his bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses along his jawline. “I'll have to take hopeless cases more often,” he panted. “Especially if this is how you're going to respond.” He gasped as Juliet bit his earlobe.

“No more talking,” she purred into his ear. She ran her hands down his chest as she kissed him again, delving her tongue into his mouth. His tongue curled around hers as he ran his fingers through her hair. Breaking the kiss, she grasped the edges of his shirt and lifted it over his head. She ran her hands lightly over his bare skin, kissing along his collarbone. He groaned, pulling her up into another kiss. His hand snaked under her shirt, reaching up to cup a breast. She whimpered into his mouth before pulling away.

“Bedroom?” he asked breathlessly. She nodded, giving his lip one last nip before standing up. She gave him a seductive look before sauntering out of the room towards the bedroom. He took a second to catch his breath before rising up off the couch and following her.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think, especially those few who read the original. I'm always open to suggestions or criticism.


	3. Hitting the Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure what to say. My grandfather died last week and I've been pretty out of it the last few days. I'm only posting this tonight because I had it finished ahead of time; I've barely been able to concentrate on my writing. I'm still a few chapters ahead, so you shouldn't see any interruption in the posting of this story.
> 
> For those who read the original, you'll notice a couple changes in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Tuesday_

 

Shawn leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He was at the Psych office doing something vital to every case: research. Gus was busy with his pharmaceutical route that morning, trying to sell his company's drugs to local doctors, leaving him to work on this alone. He didn't understand why Gus still had that job; Psych was _wa_ _y_ more fun. But every time he brought it up, Gus started going on about bills and health benefits and pension plans and he inevitably tuned it out.

As for the research, most of what he had found so far were articles full of unpronounceable scientific terms that he couldn't even begin to understand. There were tables of numbers with accompanying graphs which he supposed proved something or other. There were also a couple pictures he recognized as molecule diagrams (which he vaguely remembered from high school chemistry), though he had zero idea what the actual molecule _was_. He guessed some kind of plastic; that was one of the few recognizable words that popped up regularly in the papers.

Gus really should have been the one doing this. Not only would he understand the articles, he would probably enjoy reading them. The geeky bastard loved to learn new things. “New rule,” Shawn muttered to himself. “Gus does all research on any science related cases.” He glanced at his phone sitting on the desk, wishing it would ring. Anything to relieve the boredom; even a phone call from his dad would be preferable right now. Unfortunately, it stayed stubbornly silent.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had been staring at a computer screen for the last two hours and it was giving him a headache. He wasn't uncovering anything useful in Sanders' research. Maybe he should look into his coworkers at the university, see if he had any rivals. In retrospect, that is where he should have started, instead of trying to understand those indecipherable research papers. He groaned as he leaned forward again, calling up the university's website. “Chemistry, chemistry,” he muttered to himself, looking for a link to that section of the site.

He froze as he heard a faint sound behind him. When it didn't repeat, he carefully turned around. Nothing was there. “Hello?” he called out, just to be safe. No answer.

Having had people break into the Psych office before, he got up and checked the other room. The front door was still closed and nothing seemed out of place. No one was there. Still wondering what the sound could have been, he returned to his desk.

He found a link to a list of staff members in the chemistry department and started perusing it. There was only one other professor performing the same research as Sanders, a Dr. Lyle Pratt. Shawn was just pulling up Pratt's page when a voice sounded behind him.

“Watchya doin'?”

Shawn gave a manly squeak and spun around. Standing behind him was Nikki Peterson. “What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to calm his pounding heart. “And do you have to stand right behind me?” He could understand why Lassiter was so upset when he did the same thing to the detective yesterday.

She pouted. “I said I'd come back today to see how you were doing on my case,” she reminded him, coming around the desk. She was wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt and either the same ratty jeans as yesterday or an identically ratty pair. She stood in front of him, arms crossed, a disappointed look on her face. “Did you forget?” She glanced over his desk, gaze landing on the bag of chips he had been munching on. “Hey, are those regular nacho cheese or spicy?” she asked, pointing to them.

“Regular.” He took out a yellow legal pad, glancing at Nikki as he gathered his thoughts. The truth was Nicole Peterson was a pretty common name. Common enough that a Google search had turned up thousands of worthless results. Even adding that she was from North Carolina hadn't helped. He needed more information from Nikki in order to find _her_ , let alone her father.

“To answer your first question: I'm a psychic. Of course I didn't forget,” he said, feeling a bit insulted. He had just spoken to her yesterday, after all. “The spirits just have – “

“How does being psychic have anything to do with remembering something?” she interrupted, a puzzled frown on her face. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“You need a good memory in order to remember all the things the spirits tell you,” he said, annoyed at being interrupted. He tried again, trying to inject more authority and mysticism into his voice, “Now, as the spirits wanted me to say – “

“I have a pretty good memory,” Nikki interrupted again. She raised an eyebrow. “Does that make me psychic?” she asked mockingly.

“A good memory doesn't make you a psychic,” he said exasperated. “Talking to spirits does. Can you please just – “

“How does the whole talking to spirits work exactly?” she asked, warming to the subject. Her eyes darted to the Doritos bag and back to him, so quickly he almost missed it. “You say they talk to you,” she continued, as if thinking aloud. “They can't be physically talking or everyone would hear them. So they must be talking into your mind.” She crossed her arms and looked down, brow furrowed in thought. Shawn stayed quiet, interested to see where she would go with this. “Let's say that is what their doing, but there is more than one spirit, so you must have a way to tell them apart. Maybe they 'sound' different in your head. Is that how you recognize the victims when they contact you?” She looked to Shawn for an answer. Before he could even think of one, she shook her head. “No, that wouldn't work. You haven't met most of your victims, so what would there be to recognize? Maybe you see an image of them in your head when they speak, or can sense their identity through their auras. But that would have the same problem as their voices. You haven't met them.” She shook her head, then turned to face him. “I just have one question for you,” she said, looking very serious.

Shawn was impressed. She had seriously thought this psychic thing through. She had exposed more holes in his act in five minutes than Lassiter had discovered in the seven years they had been working together. He hoped her question wasn't if he was psychic. This girl had the smarts to ruin him if she wanted. “What's the question?” he asked with some trepidation.

Still looking serious, Nikki asked, “Can I have some of those?” She pointed to the bag of Doritos on the desk.

Relieved, he nodded. “Sure, go ahead.” Before he had finished speaking, she had grabbed the bag and started eating. He watched her in horrified fascination. She was inhaling the chips so quickly he thought she was going to choke on them. He started mentally reviewing the steps to the Heimlich maneuver in his head, just in case.

Noticing his stare, Nikki paused in her eating. She blushed. “Sorry,” she said with embarrassment, looking down. “I had to skip breakfast in order to get out of the house before my mom woke up.” She tried to hand the bag of chips back to him.

He waved her away. “Keep them. I've had to do the same thing a time or to growing up with my dad. Besides, I heard it's best to swallow your food whole without all that time wasted on chewing. That's how snakes do it.” She glared but started eating again, though much slower. He nodded approvingly, and continued. “Let me guess; you got caught sneaking around with a boy and your mom grounded you.” He waited to see what her answer would be. He had heard a slight waver in her voice when she mentioned her mom. He had heard it yesterday too. She was lying about something connected with her mom, and he was hoping to figure out what it was.

“Something like that.” Her voice was steady, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. “Didn't you have something to ask me?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Not me,” he said, letting the matter drop for now. “The spirits had some questions in order to better locate your father.”

“Shouldn't the 'spirits' already know everything?” she asked, using air quotes. She was clearly still skeptical. As if her long speech hadn't made _that_ abundantly clear.

“They don't know everything,” he elaborated, winging it. “They know where to go to find the answers. Unfortunately, they are a little stumped with you.” He grabbed the legal pad and a pen. “They need a little more information in order to find the correct essence trail.” He thought that might sound suitably mystical for her.

“Essence trail, right,” she said sarcastically. _Apparently not_. “So what do the 'spirits' need to know?” She pulled a chair in front of his desk and sat down.

He cleared his throat. “Just some basic information. Date of birth. Also where you were born.” At her look he continued. “So the spirits know where to start looking.”

“November 23, 1997 in Columbia, North Carolina,” she said.

Shawn did the math in his head. _So that puts her father in Columbia_ _late February or early_ _March_. _That at least narrows it down._ “Did you grow up in Columbia?”

“No, we moved around a lot,” she said, sighing. “My mom had to go wherever there was work.” She looked at him sadly. “It was always just the two of us.”

“You didn't have any other relatives who could help out? Or friends?” he asked, surprised. He remembered his grandfather hanging around when he was a kid, and of course his Uncle Jack, the treasure hunter. Gus had been like a brother to him, so he never really felt like an only child. They spent so much time together growing up the Gusters had become like a second family. Whenever he got into a fight with his dad, he always had someone he could turn to.

“Nope. Mom is an only child and her parents died before I was born,” she said, picking at a hole in her jeans. “We moved around too much to make any permanent friends. Since my dad wasn't in the picture, that just left the two of us.” She shifted in her seat, avoiding eye contact. “Are there any other questions?” she asked uncomfortably.

“No, that should be all for now.” The questioning was obviously making Nikki uneasy and he should have enough now to make some decent headway. He could understand why finding her father was so important to her. She didn't get along well with her mom and had no friends. Her father was her last chance to find someone who might understand her. That is, if Shawn could find him.

His musings were interrupted by his stomach growling, and not a quiet little gurgle growl either. Rather, it sounded like a loud, ferocious beast about to pounce on his next victim. He glanced at the clock. He hadn't eaten before starting his research this morning and was surprised to see it was already after 11.

Nikki giggled, turning back to her cheerful self. “I guess I wasn't the only one to skip breakfast this morning,” she said, grinning. She tilted the bag of chips towards him. “Hungry?” she asked impishly.

He drew himself up, trying to look imposing. “A psychic learns to ignore the demands of the flesh when communing with the spirits,” he said with dignity. “A little hunger is small price to pay for knowledge.” She just rolled her eyes and handed him the bag. He managed to maintain his dignified pose until he looked inside. “It's empty!” he exclaimed.

“It is not!” she protested indignantly.

He looked at her and turned the bag upside down. A scattering of crumbs and a single chip landed on his desk. He raised an eyebrow.

“OK, now it's empty,” she said, grinning back at him.

He shook his head, “You must be fun to live with,” he muttered, wiping the crumbs off his desk. He ate the single chip, but it left him far from satisfied. “That was the last of the food,” he said, whining. Being hungry always made him cranky. “Gus won't buy any new snacks until tomorrow.” He pouted at Nikki, blaming her for the food shortage.

Nikki rolled her eyes. “So go out and buy something.”

Shawn sighed dramatically. “I guess I don't really have a choice.” He stood up and grabbed his phone off the desk. “All right, let's go.”

“Go?” she asked in surprise.

“To get breakfast. Though at this point it's more of a brunch or possibly an early lunch.” Shawn was walking towards the door, but stopped when he realized Nikki was still just sitting in the chair. “Are you coming?”

Nikki stood up slowly, looking uncomfortable. “You don't have to buy me anything.”

“And leave you to starve?” He pointed at the bag of chips. “Judging by how fast you ate those, you're just as hungry as I am.”

“I just. . . I can't pay you back or anything,” she said helplessly.

“I'll put it on your tab,” Shawn said in exasperation. “Once I find your dad, he can pay me back. How about that?” He had never seen someone more reluctant to accept a free meal (except maybe Lassiter). He could understand not wanting to feel like she owed him more than she already did for taking the case, but going hungry because of it was just stupid.

Nikki nodded slowly. “Okay. That could work.”

“Good, now let's go,” Shawn said.She still looked uncomfortably, but she got up and followed him out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Nikki took a long sip of her smoothie. “These are really good,” she said approvingly. “Not many places can make a good smoothie.”

“There's a place across town that makes the best smoothies of all time,” Shawn said, sipping his own. “I'll take you there some time.”

“OK.” She turned to look at him. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You're welcome.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they walked down the boardwalk. She had been very quiet since they left the Psych office. He had tried to get her to relax and open up a bit, but she kept her responses to one word answers. When they got to the diner, she only wanted to order one small thing off the menu. He had to push her to order more and even then he added an extra couple items 'to share' to make sure she was getting enough.

A good thing too, because she had plowed through every thing that was put in front of her. She didn't eat as fast as she did the chips in the office but with a steady, single-minded intensity that made him believe she hadn't had a full meal in a while. It made her reluctance to let him pay even more strange. Even street kids don't generally turn down handouts of food.

She had seemed more relaxed after the meal and accepted his offer to buy them both smoothies without protest. She sipped hers quietly as they made their way back to Psych.

“So,” he said, never liking silence himself, “Do you always turn down free food when you're starving or do you have something against me?”

Nikki blushed. “It's not you. I just don't like to take handouts from people.” She shrugged, glancing at him. “Sort of a pride thing. My mom and I managed fine on our own without having to rely on other people.”

Shawn nodded. “I can understand that. Doesn't mean it's bad to accept a gift every once in awhile though.”

“I guess.” She was quiet for a minute, then turned around and started walking backwards in front of him. “So, how's the police case going?” she asked. She sipped her smoothie, grinning at him cheekily.

“What makes you think I have another case?” he asked, hiding his surprise.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You got a call yesterday while I was in the office. I distinctly heard Gus refer to the caller as 'chief.' Unless you're part of a clan or something, he was likely talking to the chief of police. You left immediately after I did, so the Chief probably called you in. Since you were playing video games when I first met you, she probably called about a new case, not an existing one. This morning you were looking at the UC Santa Barbara website. Unless you decided to go to college late in life,” and here she looked doubtfully at him,” you were researching the professor who died a few days ago in one of the labs. I read about it in the newspaper.” She looked at him smugly. The effect was ruined when he had to grab her arm to keep her from tripping over a couple walking their dog.

She stiffened at the contact and he quickly let her go. “Thanks,” she said, turning around to walk normally. When he didn't respond, she looked over at him. “So, was I right?” she asked.

Shawn was amazed. He picked out clues from his surroundings and deduced the truth from them on a daily basis. It was what led to him pretending to be a psychic in the first place, but he had never met anyone else who could do the same thing, besides his father. It was kind of freaky, being on this side of it.

Pondering this, he realized Nikki was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Considering his options, he decided to go with the truth. Sort of. “I may or may not have been given a case, which could possibly involve a local university, that involves the untimely ending of an individual who might have been working in a field taught at said school, under suspicious like circumstances.” He tried to make what he was saying sound as convoluted as possible. He couldn't just admit outright she was correct, after all.

She looked blankly at him for a minute, then frowned in concentration. She muttered under her breath, trying to figure out what he had said. After a minute her expression cleared, and she looked up at him. “Have you looked at persons who may have been present at the event that possibly transpired at the previously mentioned location?” she asked, in an attempt to be as convoluted as him.

Sensing that this way of talking would make the conversation take twice as long and cause headaches, he dropped the act. “I'm meeting up with Gus soon to investigate the crime scene and talk to witnesses,” he said.

“Cool!” she said eagerly. “Can I come?” She stopped in front of him and gave him a pleading look.

He sighed. “Shouldn't you be in school?” he asked irritably.

She shook her head. “Nope. Some kind of teacher's conference thing. I have the whole day free. How about it?” She resumed the pleading look, adding a puppy dog whine.

“Come on,” he said condescendingly. “I perfected that look. There's no way it's going to work on me.” He crossed his arms and stared back at her. After a minute she threw up her hands in surrender.

“Fine, I can't come,” she said crossly. She turned serious and looked him right in the eye. “But promise me you'll work on my case too, OK?” she said, poking him in the chest.

“I promise,” he said, crossing his heart.

“Good,” she said, all smiles again. “Then I will see you tomorrow.” She skipped off down the boardwalk.

Shawn continued on to the Psych office alone, thinking about the events of that morning. Nikki Peterson was a unique and strange individual. She acted like nothing was wrong, hiding behind a cheerful front, but he had noticed a few things. She wouldn't accept gifts from strangers, even when she was starving. Any time he touched her or got to close to her, she froze at the contact. Whenever she mentioned her mom, it was with a mix of suppressed anger and sadness. It all added up to a worrying picture. She needed help and the best way for him to do that was to find her dad. With renewed determination, he entered the Psych office.

Gus was sitting inside at his desk. “I was just about to call you,” he said, putting down his cell phone. “The police are down at the university, re-investigating the crime scene and looking for witnesses. We should go.” He looked at the smoothie in Shawn's hand and frowned. “What have you been doing all morning?”

“That is not important right now,” he said, slurping up the last of his smoothie. What Gus didn't know wouldn't hurt him, or Shawn when Gus found out he used his friend's credit card to pay for breakfast. He threw out the empty smoothie container and clapped his hands. “Let's ride!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be posting Monday nights instead of Monday mornings from now on. I usually have more free time after work than before.


	4. Back to School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has left a review on this story so far. Life has been hectic lately but I promise I will respond to all of them.
> 
> But for now, on with the story!

“Ah, the hallowed halls of UC Santa Barbara,” Shawn said as he and Gus entered the chemistry wing of the university. “It sure brings me back to my days on campus.” He smiled fondly as he remembered those crazy times.

“What days on campus?” Gus asked. “You never went to college.” He gave Shawn a look, daring Shawn to disprove him.

“Then why do I have a master's degree in Phsysics hanging on my wall?” Shawn asked. He smiled at a couple of girls in the hall, turning to give them a nod as he walked past. They giggled as Gus grabbed his arm and turned him back around, glaring at him.

“Dude.”

“What?” He flirted with almost every girl they passed, as long as Juliet wasn't around. It was almost a reflex at this point; it didn't mean anything.

Gus sighed and let go of his arm. “You made that degree in Photoshop when we were working the case at the Meitner school.”

Shawn had gone undercover as a guest lecturer at an exclusive school for geniuses in order to catch a murderer disguising himself as one of the students. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to relive being a teenager, no matter how screwed up their life was. Though he was still adamant he so could have pulled it off. “OK, you have a point,” he conceded, rubbing his arm. “Man, you have a grip like a rabid spider monkey. Look I'm already starting to bruise.” He held his arm up to Gus's face for him to see until Gus slapped him away. “But I did spend time on campus visiting you when you were in college,” he said, bringing them back to the original discussion.

“You only visited me once, right after I was dumped by my girlfriend.” Gus turned to Shawn, narrowing his eyes. “You said you wanted to cheer me up. Do you remember what happened that weekend?” Gus stared at him, waiting for his response.

“I took you to a frat party to hook you up with a new girl,” Shawn said warily. He could guess where Gus was going with this and it wasn't one of his prouder moments.

“And what happened at that party?” Gus asked tersely.

“Dude, it was like fifteen years ago,” Shawn complained.

“You ditched me to make out with a math major,” Gus said, coming to a stop and glaring at Shawn.

“In my defense she wasn't just any math major,” he said, trying to get Gus to understand his position. “She was a hot math major. A hot _blond_ math major. I mean, how many of those do you think even exist? I had to hook up with her.” He waited for Gus to respond. His friend just continued to glare, unswayed by his argument. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to be my friend and support me in my time of need,” Gus said reproachfully.

“Aren't you being a little over dramatic?” he asked teasingly.

“I got drunk and threw up on my bio lab partner, Shawn,” Gus said angrily. “She wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the semester.”

He winced. Trust Gus to know just what to say to make him feel guilty. It was a skill only Gus and Henry seemed to possess, although he supposed Juliet would develop it soon enough. He hated feeling guilty. “Gus, man, if I didn't say it then, I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. He held up his hand as if taking an oath, “I promise from this point on I will never ditch you for a girl again,” he said solemnly.

Gus snorted. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Shawn.” However he seemed to be somewhat mollified by Shawn's apology.

“We good?” he asked, holding out his fist.

Gus looked at him for a minute, then sighed. “We're good,” he said, bumping Shawn's fist with his own.

“Now, let's talk motive,” Shawn said as they started walking down the hallway again. “I'm betting on an angry girlfriend. She's dating a smart guy, he seems dependable. Then he starts spending long nights at the lab, missing dates, forgetting important anniversaries. Maybe she's tired of being ignored. Maybe she found out he got chummy with one of the lab techs. Either way she finally has enough. She sneaks in, messes with his experiment so the death looks accidental, then acts broken-hearted when the police tell her of his death.” He looked at Gus, pleased with himself.

“It's a good theory,” Gus said as they reached an intersection with another hallway. “Too bad he didn't have a girlfriend.” He started heading to the right.

He grabbed Gus's arm. “Dude, it's this way,” he said, dragging him to the left.

“But the sign says chemistry labs to the right,” Gus said, pulling him to a stop. He pointed to the sign on the wall in front of them.

“Except Sanders was in one of two chemistry labs located next to the physics wing.” Shawn let go of Gus's arm and started down the left hand hallway. After a moment Gus caught up with him.

“How do you know that?” Gus asked him curiously.

“I divined it psychically while meditating on the subject,” he said seriously. Gus just looked at him, waiting for a real answer. He sighed and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. “I may also have printed out a map,” he said, handing it to Gus.

Gus opened the map and looked at it. “Says here the head of the other lab is a Dr. Lyle Pratt,” he said, pointing to the map. “We should probably ask him about Sanders and see if he noticed anything odd.”

They turned the corner and stopped. Ahead of them the hallway was cordoned off with police tape. Curious students and a couple of members of the press were pressed up against the tape, watching the proceedings. Equipment from the crime scene unit littered the hallway. An officer was standing off to the side questioning a couple of guys in lab coats. Shawn could hear more activity from the open doorway to their right. According to his map, that was Sanders' lab. Someone from forensics exited the room, placing several samples in one of the cases on the floor.

“Looks like forensics is finishing up,” Shawn said quietly to Gus. “Now is our time to investigate.” He ducked under the police tape and gestured for Gus to follow him.

Gus shook his head, pointing to the tape. “We’re not allowed,” he said just as quietly.

“Come on, Gus. Just duck under it,” Shawn said in exasperation.

“No,” Gus whispered, crossing his arms.

After a furious, if whispered, argument between the two which ended with Gus staying firmly planted on the far side of the tape, Shawn shook his head and headed over to the lab. He peaked carefully around the doorway. Lassiter was talking to a couple guys from forensics, his back towards Shawn. If he was quick, he would have time to get in and find something before Lassiter figured out he was in there. He was about to enter when someone behind him called his name.

“Shawn!” Coming up to him was the 6' 5” form of Officer Buzz McNab. “I'm sorry,” he said, stopping Shawn from going any further. “But I can't let you into the crime scene.” He did look genuinely sorry, a fact Shawn planned to exploit.

Shawn clapped him on the shoulder. Well, more like the upper arm, as the man’s shoulder was out of his reach. “Buzz, buddy, it's OK. The chief put us on the case.” He tried to duck around McNab and get into the lab.

McNab stopped him again. “Detective Lassiter gave me strict orders to not let you go unescorted into the crime scene. He doesn't want you to ‘mess things up as usual.’” He looked apologetically at Shawn. “His words, not mine.”

“Where's Jules? Can't she escort me?” Shawn asked, looking around for the blond detective.

“She's at a robbery scene downtown,” McNab explained. “We're shorthanded right now so the Chief asked her to cover it while Lassiter checked out the school.” He frowned in thought. “I could see if one of the other officers would escort you.”

“That's OK. I have a backup escort,” Shawn said, pointing to Gus behind the police tape.

McNab hesitated. “I don't think that's what Lassiter had in mind. I should go ask him if that would be all right.” He started to enter the lab, presumably to look for Lassiter.

“That's OK,” Shawn said hurriedly, stopping him. “I wouldn't want to bother Lassie right now. I know he's upset that Marlowe's parole has been delayed again.”

“Only a week,” McNab said, then paused. “How did you know that?” he asked in amazement. “I only found out by accident and Detective O'Hara said he wants it kept quiet.”

“I _am_ a psychic,” Shawn reminded McNab. He put his hand to his head. “And I'm sensing the Chief told Lassiter to wrap this case up quickly before the press gets wind it was murder.” He dropped his hand and leaned in conspiratorially. “Lassie's under a lot of stress. You know he could use some help,” he said, appealing to McNab's good nature.

“All right,” McNab said, caving just as Shawn knew he would. “But don't tell Lassiter I was the one to let you in. I just got off of traffic duty.”

“Sure thing Buzz,” Shawn assured him. He watched McNab walk away before turning towards Gus. “Come on, we're in!”

Gus came over as he peeked around the doorway again. “How did you know about Marlowe's parole?” Gus asked.

Lassiter still had his back to him. The detective pointed to a doorway on the far side of the room and started walking towards it. Keeping an eye on Lassiter, Shawn whispered to Gus, “I saw a letter from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation on his desk yesterday. Jules said Marlowe was due to be paroled soon. Judging by his extra grumpiness lately, it seemed like a logical guess.” Lassiter entered the far room, taking the forensics guys with him. “Now's our chance.” He entered the room with Gus right behind him.

The lab looked like it had in the crime scene pictures, minus the dead body of course. What he hadn't noticed from the pictures was how clean the place was. Nothing was out of place. The counters looked freshly wiped down and everything was put neatly away. Even the floor looked clean enough to eat off of. The only mess in the otherwise pristine lab was the table containing the late doctor's ill-fated experiment and some scattered piles of fingerprinting dust from the tech guys. This was going to make finding any clues difficult, even for him.

“We don't have a lot of time,” Gus said, eyeing the doorway Lassiter had walked through. “Let's hurry.”

“Agreed.”

The two split up to examine as much of the lab as possible. Gus looked over the cabinets containing lab supplies. “This guy sure was a neat freak.” He pulled out a box of pencils, which had a label saying 'pencils' on it. “You could learn something from him.”

Shawn meanwhile was examining the victim's last experiment. All the containers with any kind of chemical in it had been removed and tested. The rest of the equipment had been left as is on the table. He was looking for anything forensics may have missed. At Gus's comment he looked over at what his friend was holding. “The guy is dead Gus,” he said. “And I think he had an unnatural attachment to his label maker.” He went back to examining the table.

“I just think you could use a little more organization in your life.” Gus went over to Sanders' desk and started looking through the drawers. “I don't even want to think about what I saw the last time I looked in your desk.” He pulled some papers out of one of the drawers and flipped through them. “I think I found something,” he said, studying one of the sheets. “Shawn, come look at this.”

“In a minute.” All his attention was on a beaker sitting on the table. More importantly, what was under the beaker. A single strand of gray hair stuck to the bottom when Shawn picked it up. He looked up to tell Gus what he had found when he heard loud voices coming from the next room and getting closer. He quickly put the beaker back down and saw Gus shove something into his pocket.

Moments later, Lassiter entered the lab followed by a man in a lab coat. The stranger was tall, with graying hair, and seemed to be approximately the same age as the victim. He was berating Lassiter as they entered the room. “This is completely unacceptable. I need to conduct my work.”

Shawn could see Lassiter was close to losing it as he responded. “This is a police investigation,” he said through clenched teeth. “That means this area remains off limits until our investigation is done, including the supply room. You can conduct your little experiments later.” Turning, he noticed Shawn and Gus in the lab. “Spencer, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Little experiments?” the man said, enraged, ignoring Shawn and Gus' presence. “I am conducting important work. Work that will have more impact than any mere civil servant, such as yourself, could hope to achieve.”

Shawn could literally see the blood pounding through the veins on Lassiter's neck. Knowing Lassiter was about to let the guy have it, he jumped in. “I don't believe we've met,” he said, getting between the man and Lassiter. He held out his hand. “I am Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic at the SBPD.”

“Dr. Lyle Pratt,” he said, ignoring Shawn's hand. “And an educated man such as myself does not believe in psychics,” He turned to give Lassiter a scathing look. “I'm surprised the SBPD is gullible enough to buy into this farce.”

“He happens to be a valuable resource for the department who has helped solve dozens of cases,” Lassiter said, surprising Shawn. He didn't think Lassiter saw him as anything other than a nuisance. Then again, maybe he just found this man more annoying than Shawn. He did wish he was recording this moment for posterity, and possible blackmail later on.

“Now, if you don't return to your lab I will have you arrested for hindering our investigation.” Lassiter ground out, glaring at Pratt.

“I've wasted enough time here. See that your men clean out as soon as possible.” Pratt turned and stormed back into the far room.

Lassiter stood completely still in the center of the lab. Shawn wasn't even sure if he was breathing. “Hey Lassie?” he asked cautiously, edging closer to the detective. “Are you OK?” He looked over at Gus worriedly.

“Spencer,” Lassiter said through clenched teeth. “You have five seconds to leave this lab.”

Gus immediately started for the door but Shawn moved closer to Lassiter. “I can't do that,” he said. Gus grabbed his arm and tried to get him to leave but Shawn shook him off. “You see, I had a vision – “

“I am ready to pull out my gun and shoot the next person that bothers me,” Lassiter said. Shawn had never heard him so serious. He glared at Shawn. “Leave. Now.”

Not liking the look on Lassiter's face, Shawn let Gus drag him from the room. They stood in the hallway for a moment, glancing surreptitiously at the lab.

“Dude, I think he really would have shot you,” Gus said finally. He glanced fearfully at the lab. “I've never seen him that angry.”

“I think you're right,” Shawn said, a little nervously. He pulled Gus further away from the door. “I found a gray hair under a beaker. I was going to do the whole 'psychic vision' thing but I don't think Lassie is in a receptive mood right now.” He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “What did you find?” he asked, turning back to Gus.

“I think it’s a list of students working in the lab,” Gus said, pulling out the paper. “One column says lab techs, the other post docs.”

“Post doc? Like a doctor for mail?” Shawn asked.

“Post doctorate,” Gus explained. “After getting their doctorate many students spend time under an adviser to learn more about working in their field. Sanders must have been the adviser to these students,” he said, pointing to the list.

“Let's see if any of them are here.” Shawn glanced around the hallway, spotting the two guys who had been questioned by the police earlier. He pointed them out to Gus and headed over.

“Hi, I'm Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic for the SBPD.” He pointed to Gus. “And this is my associate, Winsome Losome. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“I don't believe in psychics,” the guy on the right said. He was tall and gangly with short cropped brown hair. His pasty complexion showed he spent nearly all of his time indoors. His outfit was immaculate, unusual for a student. Shawn noticed cat scratches on the back of his left hand.

“Be polite,” the other guy said, nudging him. He was shorter and heavier, with sandy blond hair. Unlike his friend, he had the healthy tan of someone familiar with sunny beaches. “I'm Sam Cooper.” He gestured to his companion. “I'm sorry about Newton. He doesn't have well developed social skills.”

Newton looked at Shawn in disdain. “I don't believe in wasting my time. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Without waiting for a response, he walked away.

“Nice guy,” Shawn said. “Between him and Pratt it must be a barrel of laughs working here.”

“Oh, he's nowhere near as bad as Dr. Pratt,” Cooper said. “Newton doesn't intentionally insult you. He just thinks logically and without any emotion.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“I'm sensing Dr. Pratt is not so well liked,” Shawn said. Judging by what they had already seen of the man, it was hard to imagine anyone liking him.

“Oh yeah, he's a grade A jerk,” Cooper agreed. “Especially with the budget cuts.” He glanced around quickly and lowered his voice. “Rumor is they need to close one of the labs down. Since Sanders and Pratt are performing similar research, it will likely be one of them.”

“Really?” Shawn said, looking at Gus. That sounded like motive to him. “Do tell us more.”

“Well, I work as a tech for both labs,” Cooper said. “So I would see them arguing all time. The rivalry between them has been going on for years. It's only gotten worse since the rumors started.” He nervously tugged on the collar of his shirt. “You didn't hear it from me, but I think Pratt was sabotaging some of Sanders' experiments.” He tugged on his collar again, exposing a tattoo of a Chinese symbol.

“Nice ink,” Shawn said, momentarily distracted. “Though not many people get the word for soup tattooed on their neck. What?” he asked, as Gus shoved him.

“It doesn't say ‘soup’,” Cooper said irritably. He pulled on his shirt to cover the tattoo again. “It says ‘courage.’”

“Trust me,” Shawn said. “It says soup.” Gus shoved him again. “Dude, stop it.”

“You don't know what you’re talking about,” Gus whispered to Shawn. “Stop bothering the guy.”

“I worked in a restaurant in Chinatown for two weeks, Gus,” Shawn whispered back. “I think I know the symbol for soup.”

“And I think a smart guy getting a Chinese symbol tattooed on himself would have looked up its meaning,” Gus whispered angrily. “So drop it.”

“You drop it,” Shawn hissed back.

Cooper watched their argument with confusion. “If you don't need me anymore,” he said, interrupting them, “I'm just going to go back to work.” Looking confused and a little unnerved, he left them and entered Pratt's lab.

“Great,” Gus said, looking at Shawn in annoyance. “You scared him off.”

“I scared him off?” Shawn asked incredulously. “You're the one who started it.”

“I did not,” Gus stated emphatically.

“Did too,” Shawn shot back.

Gus made as if to respond, then paused. “I'm not doing this,” he said, drawing himself up. “One of us has to be the bigger man.”

“Fine, I win then,” Shawn said with satisfaction. He walked off, back towards Sanders’ lab.

Gus pulled him to a stop. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Lassiter told us to stay out of there.”

“Please, Gus,” Shawn said. “When have I ever done what Lassiter has asked?” He started walking to the lab again. “Besides, I know who the killer is.”

“Who?” Gus asked. Shawn didn’t answer as he led the way into the lab. “Shawn!” Gus hissed, following after him.

Lassiter was still inside, watching forensics do one final sweep of the lab. He seemed to have cooled down some but was not pleased to see Shawn. “I thought I told you to get out,” he said tersely.

Shawn held out his right hand. He started waving it around the room, as if trying to sense something. “Something drew me in here.” He moved his hand over the cabinets and Sanders’ desk. He also passed it briefly over Lassiter's face. Lassiter made a grab at his hand but he moved it away too quickly.

“Spencer, what is the point of this?” Lassiter snapped.

Shawn moved to Sanders' experiment. He made his hand tremble as he passed it over the table. “Oh, I feel it.” he said. “It's here, but it's trapped.” He started imitating _The Fly_. “ _Help me, Help me._ ” he said in a high pitched voice.

“Spencer,” Lassiter said, moving toward him.

Shawn dodged out of reach. “I'm sensing something small.” He started giggling and squirming. “And ticklish.” He dodged Lassiter again. “I'm getting bands, combs, maybe a comb-over,” he said with a smirk.

“Those are all things to do with hair,” Gus said, playing along.

“I'm also getting a color,” Shawn said. Lassiter was almost over to him so he rushed through the last bit, backing away quickly. “Old, but distinguished. A man just past his prime.” Lassiter caught up to him and grabbed his arm. He started dragging Shawn out of the lab.

“Gray,” Gus said.

At this Lassiter stopped. “A gray hair?” he asked Shawn.

“Yes!” Shawn said excitedly. “That is what I'm sensing. A gray hair, but trapped somehow.”

Lassiter gestured to one of the forensics guys. “Check that table again,” he ordered. “Look under everything to see if you find a gray hair.”

There was a couple of tense moments while they waited for the forensics guy to search the table. Then –

“I found something.” The tech held up a beaker, a gray hair stuck to the bottom. He pulled it off carefully with tweezers and stuck it in an evidence bag and handed the bag to Lassiter.

Lassiter dropped Shawn's arm and took the bag. “Perfect,” he muttered quietly. “Now if only I had a motive to tie him to the murder.”

“If you mean Dr. Pratt,” Shawn asked, getting Lassiter's attention. “I'm sensing a rivalry between himself and Dr. Sanders.”

“Really?” Lassiter said, interested. “Do you sense anything that could be a motive?” He looked at Shawn intently.

Unnerved by Lassiter actually paying attention to his visions, Shawn stumbled over his next words. “I heard – I mean I sensed, when he was here.” Shawn stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm sensing the university was considering closing one of these two labs down,” he finished, only slightly lacking his usual confidence.

Lassiter smiled. Shawn had never seen anything so creepy. “That sounds like motive to me. Excuse me gentlemen.” He headed to the storage room and presumably to Pratt's lab.

Shawn looked over at Gus. “Dude, was that creepy or what?” he asked Gus, shivering.

“Definitely creepy,” Gus agreed.

They heard loud voices coming through the doorway. Then a handcuffed Pratt came through being guided by a grinning Lassiter. “You can't do this to me,” Pratt was yelling. “I am a prominent scientist. Unhand me!” He struggled against his handcuffs.

“You're murdering scum,” Lassiter said, giving him a shake. He pushed Pratt past Shawn towards the door. “Good work, Spencer.”

Shawn looked at Gus, stunned. “Did he just say what I thought I heard him just say?” he asked in disbelief.

“If you mean did I hear him praise you, then yeah, I heard it too,” Gus said, shaking his head.

Shawn took a moment to try to wrap his head around it. “Nope, can't do it,” Shawn said. He pointed at Gus. “Carlton Lassiter has been replaced by a pod person.” He shivered, glancing around nervously. “We should go before one of us is next.” He headed out the door into the hallway.

Forensics was packing up the last of their gear. Lassiter and Pratt were already out of sight and the crowd of students was starting to disperse. Shawn saw a flash of blue fabric and brown hair for a second, but it was gone before he could get a better look.

“Where now?” Gus asked, gaining his attention.

“Jerk chicken?” Shawn asked with a grin.

“You know that's right,” Gus said.

With one last look down the nearly deserted hallway, Shawn followed Gus out of the building.


	5. Not What It Seems

_Wednesday_

  
  


“OK, sorry to bother you ma'am,” Shawn said loudly, trying to make himself heard over the yelling. He was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, trying to track down Nikki's mother. Gus was sitting at his own desk, memorizing new asthma medications and being no help to Shawn whatsoever.

Apparently he was serious when he said he was taking no part in this case.

Shawn hung up the phone, grateful for the silence. With the Sanders' case pretty much wrapped up, he had spent the rest of yesterday afternoon working on Nikki's case. He had been able to find out a little bit more about her but not much. Knowing Nikki was going to come by the office today, he decided to go directly to the source for answers. Her mom obviously knew the identity of the father. All he had to do was track her down. He knew her name was Sarah; a fact he had discovered in his research. A fact Nikki had neglected to tell him, which made him all the more eager to meet this woman. Unfortunately none of the Sarah Petersons listed in the phone book for the Santa Barbara area were Nikki's mother. He had then widened his search to include most of Santa Barbara and Ventura counties. He had just finished calling the last name on the list.

“Not having any luck?” Gus asked, looking up from a pamphlet on Dupilumab.

In response, he balled up his list and tossed it at the trash can. He missed. Sighing, he looked over at Gus. “What I could gather from all the yelling was that she suspected her daughter was dating behind her back and someone is in a lot of trouble when they get home. Unfortunately, her daughter's name is Annabelle, not Nicole.” He opened a drawer and started digging through it. “So no, I'm not having any luck.” He slammed the drawer shut in frustration. “Did you eat all my red vines?”

“I don't touch your candy, Shawn. Not after the Snickers snafu of '07.” Gus shuddered at the memory.

“I could have sworn I had more in here,” he said, opening another drawer. He paused, staring into it. “Have you been messing with my magazines?” he asked, looking up at Gus with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not the one who digs through other people’s things,” Gus said pointedly.

He gave Gus a disbelieving look before reaching into the drawer. He pulled two magazines out and set them on the desk. “Someone has,” he said, closing the drawer and looking intently at Gus. “I always leave a copy of _Time_ magazine sitting on top of the stack.” He held up the magazine in question by one corner. “That way it's easily accessible if there's a client I need to impress.” He put it down and picked up the other magazine. “Someone,” he glared at Gus, “left last month's _People_ magazine on top.” He shook the magazine accusingly at Gus.

“Dude, for the last time, I didn't touch your stuff,” Gus said in exasperation. His look turned to one of confusion as Shawn put the magazine down and pulled a fingerprinting kit out of another drawer. “What are you doing?”

“Gathering evidence,” he said. He had bought the kit just for this purpose. Although 'bought' may not be the right word. Actually, he had found the kit in his father's attic while looking for his old Thundercats. Maybe it was better to say 'liberated,' as in he 'liberated' it from his father's house without his knowledge. Either way, it was his now and he had been waiting for the right time to test it out.

He laid the two magazines side by side. Very gently, he brushed powder over the covers of both magazines, then blew it off just as carefully. The _Time_ magazine only yielded a couple of smudges, but the _People_ magazine was covered in clear markings. He could make out two distinct sets of prints. He used lifting tape to pull two prints and secure them to separate white index cards. One card he glanced at and tossed, recognizing his own fingerprint. The other card he compared to a copy of Gus's fingerprints (which he had 'liberated' from the police station).

They didn't match.

“Well, the good news is, you're off the hook,” he said, looking at Gus sheepishly. “The fingerprints don't match.”

“I told you,” Gus said, looking smug. Shawn saw him pause as the rest of what he said sunk in. “What do you mean good news?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “What's the bad news?”

“The bad news is that someone still went through my desk.” Shawn held up the index card. “This print doesn't match either of ours. Someone came in and moved the magazines around.” He carefully placed the card down and pouted at Gus. “They also ate all my candy,” he whined.

“So someone was really in here last night,” Gus said, focusing on the important details. Not that stolen candy was unimportant. Just unimportant to Gus. After all, Shawn thought childishly, it wasn't _his_ candy that was stolen.

Gus started looking around the office worriedly. “What else did they take?” He got up and went over to the DVDs and started looking through them.

“Relax, nothing was taken,” Shawn said reassuringly. “I didn't notice anything different in here until I looked in my desk.”

“My desk!” Gus explained. Shawn rolled his eyes as Gus raced across the room to his desk. He yanked open a drawer and started riffling through it. Amused, Shawn got up and went over to get a better look.

“How are you going to know if something was moved if you dig through it like that?” he asked after a moment. Gus was throwing most of the contents of the drawer to the ground. Papers scattered everywhere. A box of paper clips burst open when it landed, shiny bits of metal sliding across the floor. A marble bounced out and rolled away under the couch. “What are you so worried about?”

“I keep an emergency stash of money hidden in this drawer, Shawn,” Gus said, pushing more papers on the floor. “What if the intruder found it?”

“Relax,” he said. “They would have to reach all the way to the back of the drawer and twist the secret panel 90 degrees counterclockwise while simultaneously pressing the hidden button on the outside of the desk. They would never figure that out.” Gus stopped digging through the drawer and turned to glare at him. “If you keep making that face it will stick that way.”

“How do you know that?” Gus asked. “Never mind,” he said before Shawn could answer. “The money better still all be there.” He started putting the papers back in the drawer.

“Of course it is,” Shawn said reassuringly. “All $582 of it. Besides,” he said as Gus muttered in annoyance about 'fake psychics' and 'deadbeat friends' “I never steal from you.”

“You steal from me all the time, Shawn.” Gus put the last of the papers away and slammed the drawer. “You're the one who steals _my_ candy. I have a separate stash just for you now.”

“OK, let me rephrase that,” Shawn said, tacitly acknowledging his candy thievery. “I never steal _money_ from you.”

“What about my credit card?” Gus asked. “You steal that all the time. That's why I keep having to replace them.”

“First of all, I 'borrow' your credit card. Remember, sharing is caring.” Gus did not seem impressed by that argument, so Shawn quickly moved on. “Secondly, it's a credit card, not money. And thirdly, I always help pay the bills. I don't see why you keep getting new cards. Do you really need another Venture card?”

“You get free miles for signing up – .” Gus paused, looking at him. “How do you know I have a new Venture card?” He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it.

“Lucky guess?” Shawn asked, mentally hitting himself on the head. Why hadn't he slipped Gus's credit card back last night like he had planned?

Gus pocketed his wallet and glared at him. “Where is it Shawn?” he asked in an eerily calm voice.

“I have it right here,” Shawn said, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out Gus's credit card and handed it to him. “See, nothing to worry about.” He gave Gus a reassuring grin.

Gus grabbed it from him. “You better not have used it.”

“Of course not,” Shawn said, pretending to be insulted. “I only use your credit card for emergencies.”

“Like the romantic weekend with Juliet?” Gus asked. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.

“That romantic weekend was as much for you as it was for me,” he argued. “You said you wanted some 'Gus time.' I was just respecting your wishes.” He thought back to the events of that weekend. A couple had robbed their room, then been accused of murder. “Besides, we ended up working a case. That weekend practically paid for itself.”

“How about the 300 lbs of kangaroo paste?” Gus asked.

“That was an emergency,” he explained. “My hair was completely flat and without style. That paste saved it.” Gus snorted, which he decided to interpret as a comment on how his hair looked before the paste. “Dude, this morning blows. Let's go get some smoothies.”

“In a minute,” Gus said. He was staring intently at his computer screen.

“Since when do you pass up smoothies?” he asked. He came around Gus's desk. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to peer at the screen.

“I'm checking the transactions on my credit card,” Gus said. “I'd rather know how much you spent now then wait for the bill and be surprised.” He started clicking away at the screen.

“Why worry now when you can worry later?” Shawn asked quickly. He'd rather wait for Gus to get the bill before he yelled at Shawn. That would give him time to plan a counterargument. Or flee the country. “Come on, let's get those smoothies.” He grabbed Gus's arm and tried to pull him out of the chair.

“Let go Shawn!” Gus said, breaking free. “We can get smoothies after I check. And you're paying.”

“I believe it's your turn to pay,” he said, momentarily distracted. “I paid the last time,”

“No,” Gus said, not looking up. “You pretended to forget your wallet so I had to pay. It's your turn.”

“Agree to disagree,” he said. He watched warily as Gus peered at the screen.

“Well, that's not as bad as I thought. You only used the card twice,” Gus said, causing Shawn to relax. Luckily the charge for the new air hockey table hadn't gone through yet. Gus did some typing, then looked up at Shawn. “How did you manage to spend $115 dollars at a diner?” he asked in bewilderment.

“I was really hungry,” he said hurriedly. “How about those smoothies?” He sighed as Gus looked back at the screen.

“There's also a charge on here from Smoothie Shack,” Gus said, pointing at his computer. “The charge is for two smoothies.” He looked suspiciously at Shawn. “Who were you with yesterday?”

“Who says I didn't drink both smoothies myself?” he asked defensively.

“You only had one when you came into the office,” Gus said. “Besides, you never get two. The second one gets all melty by the time you finish the first.” He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. “What are you hiding?”

He hated when Gus got all detective-y. Resigned to the fact the conversation couldn't be postponed, he crossed the room and sat at his desk. The distance would be better in case Gus tried to hit him. “I may have taken someone out to breakfast,” he said slowly.

“Does this someone have a name?” Gus asked.

“Don't be silly Gus,” Shawn said evasively. “Of course she does. Everyone has a name.”

“Shawn,” Gus said sternly. He gave Shawn the Look.

“Okay,” he said after a minute. He could never stand up to the Look. “It was Nikki.”

It took Gus a second to place the name. “Nikki, as in Nikki the girl who wants us to find her father?” Gus asked in surprise. “How did you end up buying breakfast for her?”

“I don't know,” he whined. “She came by to see how the case was coming. I asked some questions. She ate my bag of Doritos. I was hungry. She was hungry. I offered to buy her breakfast.”

“That was nice of you but that is still a lot to pay for breakfast for two people,” Gus said.

“She was really hungry. You should have seen the way she inhaled everything I put in front of her,” Shawn said.

“I thought teenage girls were supposed to be picky eaters. You know, eat a grape and their done,” Gus said.

“I guess nobody told her that.” Shawn picked up the index card and fiddled with it as he thought. Gus had said he didn't want to get involved, but that was just when it was a missing person's case. Shawn was starting to feel that something more was going on. “I think she's in trouble,” he said, staring at the wall. Seeing Gus's questioning look, he continued. “Besides the paranoia of us going to the police, there are a few other things I’ve noticed. She tenses up every time I mentioned her mom, even in passing. More than would be expected from the typical rebellious teen. When I bought her breakfast yesterday she acted like it was the first real food she's had in weeks. Again, even for a girl not normal behavior.” He put the index card down and turned to face Gus. “She also gets nervous if anyone gets too close to her and freezes at any physical contact.” He remembered her startled look when he had grabbed her arm yesterday. There had been fear in her eyes, quickly hidden, but still visible for a moment. He worried about what could have caused her to react that why. “What do you think?”

Gus slowly closed his laptop and turned to face Shawn. “I think you might be right,” he said. “You need to go to the police.”

“But she specifically asked us not to go to the police,” Shawn reminded Gus. “She was very clear about that.”

“All the more reason you should,” Gus said emphatically. “You said yourself she's hiding something, and you couldn't find her mom within a 100 miles of here. Maybe she's a runaway. Or maybe,” he said, lowering his voice, “Nikki isn't even her real name.” He leaned back and nodded mysteriously.

“Of course it's her real name,” he scoffed. Gus was starting to sound paranoid. “Otherwise how would she expect me to find her father?”

“Think about it Shawn,” Gus said, still talking in a low voice. “It's all a ruse. You haven't been able to find any information on her. Why? Because she gave you a fake name. She's probably been playing you from the start.” He was starting to get agitated. Shawn knew he needed to stop this rant now before Gus became completely irrational.

“Gus, dude, you’re sounding a little crazy here,” Shawn said calmly. It always felt weird when _he_ had to be the voice of reason. “Take a deep breath and think about this logically.”

Gus was already too wound up in his theories to hear him. “Maybe someone hired her to find out if you're really psychic.” He looked worriedly at Shawn. “Has she been asking you questions about how your psychic abilities work? Has she let slip any leading hints implying she thinks you're not really psychic?”

“Gus – “ Shawn started, before Gus cut him off again.

“Or maybe she's part of a gang of thieves,” Gus said, abandoning his earlier theory. He got up from his desk and came to stand in front of Shawn. “She's casing out the joint so they can come back and rob us later.” He pointed to the index card still in Shawn's hand. “Maybe that's her fingerprint.”

“Gus, don't you think your overreacting a little?” he asked, finally able to get a word in. “All I did was buy her breakfast.” He decided not to mention the fact that Nikki _had_ questioned his psychic-ness. It was just curiosity; nothing else.

“That's how it starts with con artists,” Gus said, nodding wisely. “They get on your good side and gain your trust. Then three days later we come in to find the office cleaned out and the headline 'Local Psychic a Fake.'”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked incredulously. This was a little extreme, even for Gus. “She was just hungry. She was not trying to con me.” He held up the index card. “This is not her fingerprint.”

“You don't know that for sure,” Gus stated stubbornly.

“Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll have Jules run the print,” Shawn snapped. Being the voice of reason was _not_ fun. No wonder Gus was always so grumpy. He took out his wallet and slipped the index card inside. Putting his wallet away, he said, “She's not a con artist.”

“Who's not a con artist?”

Shawn jumped. Turning, he saw Nikki standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be the same ripped jeans of the past two days and a plain black t-shirt. Gus threw him a disgruntled look and went back to sit at his desk.

Nikki came into the room and stood near his desk. “Who's not a con artist?” she repeated.

He didn't think Nikki would appreciate being called a con artist, so he said the first thing to pop into his head. “Kate from _Lost._ ” He heard Gus snort behind him. Ignoring it, he said “I think she was just trying to find her way out of a bad situation.” He looked pointedly at Gus.

“Well, I think it was her own fault she was in that bad situation in the first place,” Gus replied, staring right back.

“Maybe she just made a few mistakes,” Shawn argued.

“Maybe they weren't mistakes,” Gus shot back.

The two stared at each other across the office, neither willing to give in. Nikki looked back and forth between them with confusion.

“Wasn't Kate on the run because she killed her stepfather?” she asked. When both men turned to look at her, she blushed and said quietly “Maybe I remembered it wrong.”

“You're absolutely right,” Shawn said, recovering quicker than Gus. “She did put herself in that situation. In that respect Gus was right. But she only lied to get away from her past, like I said. So we were both right.” He looked over at Gus and said carefully, “No need to discuss this anymore, right?”

“For now, Shawn,” Gus said, eyeing Nikki suspiciously.

“OK,” she said slowly, still looking confused. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Soda and juice in the fridge,” Shawn said, pointing out the fridge in the corner. As she headed over to it, he got up and walked around to the front of his desk. “Dude, knock it off,” he whispered to Gus.

“I don't trust her Shawn,” Gus whispered back.

“She's not a con artist,” he said, watching her dig through the fridge.

“Then prove it,” Gus retorted. “Ask her about her mom.”

“What?” he asked, a little too loudly. Gus shushed him as Nikki looked back over at them. He gave a little wave. She returned it hesitantly and went back to looking through the fridge.

“You said she was hiding something about her mom,” Gus said, making sure to keep his voice low. “So ask her about it.”

“I can't just ask her about it,” Shawn exclaimed softly. He saw her straighten up, examining a can of soda in her hand.

“If you don't I will,” Gus said with finality.

“Fine,” he snapped, as she closed the fridge and headed back over to them.

“What are you guys whispering about?” she asked, cracking open the soda.

“Ninjas,” he said quickly. She just rolled her eyes. He debated how to ask Nikki about her mother. Slowly ease into the subject? Or just ask her outright? He could see Gus urging him on over Nikki's shoulder. She glanced behind her, only to see Gus casually reading a pamphlet on Xolair. Turning back, she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged and leaned against his desk. Going for the outright approach, he asked, “So how's Sarah?”

He couldn't have had better timing. Nikki had just taken a gulp of her soda and immediately started choking on it. He leapt in to grab the can from her flailing hand before it went flying. He glanced worriedly at Gus, wondering if he should do something.

Gus didn't seem too concerned. He nodded at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. He obviously thought her reaction proved he was right about her.

Shawn ignored Gus for now, watching Nikki carefully. She had finally stopped coughing and was trying to catch her breath. He noticed how pale she had become. Since most people turned red when choking, he assumed it was from the shock of his question.

Or fear of him learning something she didn't want him to know. He wondered what was so bad that the mention of her mom would scare her this much. When she was breathing normally again, he handed gave her back the soda.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice raspy. She took a few sips to clear her throat, pausing between each one to make sure it wouldn't trigger another coughing fit. Noticing Shawn and Gus watching her, she said quickly, “It just went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine.” She cleared her throat and looked warily at Shawn. “How did you find out my mom's name?”

“The spirits came across it while looking for information about you,” Shawn said. He knew this was a delicate subject and, while Nikki didn’t believe in his psychic act, it was a useful buffer in this situation.

“Did they tell you anything else?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit towards the end.

“No, just her name.” Shawn saw her visibly relax at the news. He glanced at Gus, who nodded. His friend had noticed it too.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “So, any news on my father?” she asked, changing the subject. She was trying to keep her tone light, but he could still hear a slight tremble in her voice. He had obviously upset Nikki by asking about her mother. He made a mental note to look more in-depth into her mother later. Something was definitely going on.

“Not yet,” he said, adopting the same light tone. He could see the disappointment on her face. “But I'm getting closer. I'm sure I'll find him soon,” he said reassuringly.

“It's fine,” she said with a sigh. “But if I'm going to be waiting around, maybe I can help out.” She walked behind Shawn's desk, sat in his chair and propped up her feet. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Her spunkiness was refreshing and he was curious to hear what she had to say. “Did you figure out who killed Sanders yet?” she asked.

“You told her about the case?” Gus said accusingly.

“Of course I didn't tell her about the case,” Shawn said, giving Gus a haughty look. “I never discuss open police cases. That would be unethical.”

“You tell the woman at the coffee shop about your cases all the time,” Gus pointed out.

“She's eighty-two,” Shawn explained. “Everyone knows old people don't count.” He gave Gus a pitying look for not knowing this obvious fact.

“It's still talking about the case,” Gus argued. “And what about your dad? You talk to him about cases all the time.”

“My dad is an ex-cop, so he doesn’t count either. He’s also old, so that makes him count even less.” Shawn crossed his arms and looked stubbornly at Gus. “Not of that proves I told Nikki.”

“Then how does she know about the case?” Gus asked, sounding smug.

“She figured it out on her own.” Shawn turned to give Nikki a grin. “It was rather impressive.”

“You really expect me to believe that a fifteen year old girl figured out not only that we had a case but the details of the case?” Gus asked incredulously. “Without you saying anything?”

“Shawn's telling the truth,” Nikki said. “I did figure it out on my own.” She smirked at Gus. “Not bad for a fifteen year old, huh?”

“How exactly did you figure it out?” Gus asked suspiciously.

“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Nikki said, a touch defensively. She looked at Shawn. “So what happened? I heard someone got arrested.” She dropped her feet and leaned forward eagerly to hear what he had to say.

“Someone did,” Shawn said with satisfaction. “Dr. Lyle Pratt.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised at Pratt's arrest. “Are you sure it was him?” she asked doubtfully.

“Positive,” he said confidently. “Pratt and Sanders have been rivals for years. They were always fighting for grants because they were doing similar research. Pratt was even sabotaging Sanders' experiments. Now the school is planning on closing one of their labs down. We believe Pratt killed Sanders' in order to keep his lab.” It was a short wrap-up, but it _was_ an open and shut case.

“What about his job offer?” she asked.

Shawn tilted his head. “What job offer?”

“You're the psychic, shouldn't you already know?” she asked mockingly.

“Sometimes my psychic channels get blocked, letting key pieces of information elude me,” he said. It was his favorite excuse to use for the Chief when he had missed some vital clue although she never really seemed to buy it.

“Yeah, sure,” Nikki said. She didn't seem to buy it either. She put down her soda and pulled an envelope out of her pocket.

Shawn took it and looked it over. “A phone bill?” he asked skeptically.

“Look inside,” she said. She picked up her soda again and took a sip.

Shawn pulled out the contents of the envelope and unfolded them. “It's still a phone bill.”

She sighed. “Flip the page.”

Shawn flipped to the next page and studied it. “Well, that sucks.”

“What is it?” Gus asked. He got up and came around his desk to have a look.

He handed Gus the paper. “It seems Pratt was offered a job by the Department of Defense,” he said as Gus glanced over the letter. “Six figure salary, full funding for all his projects. With such a sweet deal on the table, he had no reason to kill Sanders.” Worse, he had missed it. He better up his game before he missed anything else. He turned to Nikki. “Where did you find this?”

“Pratt's desk,” she said. “After the police arrested him, I snuck into his office to have a look around.” She pointed to the letter. “I found that in his desk drawer. I used to hide letters the same way.”

He recalled the glimpse of someone in blue with brown hair he had seen at the school yesterday. Nikki must have followed them, then stuck around to do some snooping. He couldn't really blame her. He often did the same himself.

“So what are we going to do now?” she asked. She looked expectantly at him and Gus as she drank her soda.

“ _We_ are not going to do anything,” Gus said, circling the three of them with his finger. “You,” he pointed to Nikki, “are leaving while _we_ ” he gestured to himself and Shawn, “try to find out who the killer is.”

“Come on, I can help,” Nikki pleaded. She looked at Shawn. “I did find the letter.”

“She does have a point,” he said to Gus.

“ _No_ , Shawn,” Gus said sternly. “Besides, how can we explain who she is to the police?”

“I can pretend to be a psychic,” Nikki said. “I know how Shawn does it, so I bet I can fake it just as well.”

“Fake it?” Gus asked. He turned angrily to Shawn. “You told her?”

“OK Nikki, time to go,” he said quickly. He walked around the desk and grabbed the now empty soda can from her. He threw it at the trash can and missed. Sighing, he waved towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.” Nikki frowned but stood up and let Shawn usher her from the room. He could feel Gus's angry stare burning into his shoulder blades as they left.

He followed closely behind Nikki, but hopefully not close enough to make her nervous, as they quickly crossed the outer office to the door. A little too quickly; she tripped over a stuffed pineapple on the floor and fell into him. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor. “Sorry,” he said, setting her back on her feet. He kicked the pineapple out of the way. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said hastily, quickly putting some distance between them. Her hands shook slightly as she straightened her clothes. “Any more surprise fruit I should worry about?” she said, forcing a light-hearted tone.

He checked the path from there to the door. “All clear,” he said. They made it to the door without incident. He let Nikki through first, following her out and shutting the door behind him.

“What was all that about?” she asked, turning to face him. “Why did you rush me out of there so fast?”

“Gus tends to worry when anyone figures out my secret,” he said, checking to make sure Gus wasn't peeking through the blinds. “Especially when that person is an underage kid we met two days ago and know nothing about.” Satisfied Gus wasn't around, he leaned back against the door. “It's best to give him some time to cool off.”

“Tell Gus not to worry. I won't tell anyone.” She gave a snort. “I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.”

“You'd be surprised.” He knew of one headstrong detective in particular who would be fascinated by what she could tell him. He crossed his arms, looking at her carefully. “I noticed you didn't just say I was a fake psychic. You said you knew how I do it.” Several people had known he was a fake, yet no one had ever claimed to know the real secret behind his gift.

“I just thought about how I would do it if I was in your place,” she said. “It couldn't be simple detective work, or the other cops would have figured out how you do it already. Then I realized we have the same gift.” She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “On Gus's desk, there is a medical dictionary to the left and a laptop to the right. A pile of pamphlets for what looks like asthma medication lies in the center of the desk; I'm not even going to try to pronounce the names of the drugs. Under that is a large calendar. Friday's date is circled but nothing is written there. There is another calendar in front of the dictionary. Two blue tickets are sticking out from under it. I can make out the word 'planet' on it. Next to that is a container of pencils, a nameplate, a box of tissues, and a stuffed frog.” She opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. “How'd I do?”

“Perfect,” Shawn said, causing Nikki to grin widely. He had never come across a person with his near perfect recall before. His dad came close, but only after years of looking for clues while on the force. This girl could put even Henry Spencer to shame and, like him, seemed to have been born with it. It might be fun to introduce her to his dad, just to see what would happen.

“Since I'll be hanging around for awhile, how about making me your fake psychic apprentice?” she said in a playful tone. He couldn't tell if she was serious or not. It would be nice to work with someone who saw things the way he did, and she had already proven valuable on the case.

Unfortunately, the Chief wasn't big on letting him bring adults into crime scenes, let along underage girls. That wasn't even considering the problem of Gus. “Love the idea, but I don't think it will work,” he said regretfully. “Gus has trust issues. He even keeps his candy locked in a desk drawer so no one steals it.” He could imagine how Gus would react if he suggested Nikki start helping them out on cases. 'Not well' would be an understatement.

“As long as it's not red vines, he has nothing to worry about,” she said. She started walking down the boardwalk. Right before she reached the end of the block, she looked back and shouted, “At least think about it.” Then she turned the corner and was gone.

_Red vines huh._ Maybe Gus wasn't that far off, thinking Nikki had broken into the office. He decided to keep the observation to himself for the time being. No reason to upset Gus any further.

Going back inside the office, he saw Gus sitting at his desk. “I don't trust her,” Gus said as soon as he entered the room.

Shawn sat at his desk and sighed. “You've already made that abundantly clear,” he said, pulling a yellow legal pad toward him. He quickly started jotting things down.

“And now she knows your secret.” Gus glared angrily at him. “What were you thinking, telling her that?”

“I didn't tell her.” Shawn kept his focus on the pad, not looking at Gus.

“Oh, and I suppose she just figured out that on her own too,” Gus said sarcastically.

“Yes, she did.” Glancing up, he met Gus's disbelieving look. “She has a photographic memory.”

“Really?” Gus asked, still not believing him.

“While we were outside, she was able to recite every item on your desk. Including tickets for the new planetarium exhibit opening Friday.” Gus frantically dug around on his desk. “Under the calendar.” Gus grabbed the offending tickets and put them away in a drawer. “Really, Gus? The planetarium? That's your idea of a big date for Rachel?” He tsked at Gus in disappointment.

“So, what you're saying,” Gus said, quickly changing the subject. “Is that she's like you.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “No one's like me. She just uses details she remembers about the scene to recreate what happened.” He paused, thinking about what he just said. “OK, somewhat like me,” he amended.

“So that's what you were talking about outside?” Gus pressed.

“Pretty much,” he said, focusing once again on the pad. He circled something, then sat contemplating what he had written.

“Pretty much?” Gus asked suspiciously. “What else did you talk about?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something?”

“Me? Hiding something from you?” Shawn asked, feigning hurt. “When do I ever keep secrets from you?” Seeing Gus about to open his mouth, he stopped him. “Don't answer that.” He fiddled with his pen, as Gus continued to stare at him. “OK, she may have said something else.” He took a deep breath. “She wants to be my fake psychic apprentice and I think she may have been the one to break into the office last night,” he said in a rush. He figured it was better to get the news out quickly, like ripping off a band aid.

Gus just sat there silently for a minute, absorbing the news. “We need to go to the police,” he said finally.

“All right,” he said, throwing down the legal pad. “Let's go.” He got up and started heading for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Gus said, causing him to stop. He turned to look at Gus as he continued. “I thought you didn't want to turn her in.”

“I don't,” he said. “But if she's right about Pratt, there's a killer on the loose. Since the only evidence the police have points to Pratt, I'm betting he was framed. Talking to him is our best chance of finding out who the killer is.” He grabbed the legal pad and handed it to Gus. On it was two lists; did it and didn't do it. The did it list was significantly longer. At the bottom the word 'framed' was circled.

“I still think we should turn Nikki in,” Gus said, handing back the pad.

“Dude, give it a _rest_ ,” he said with a sigh. He turned and headed out the door.

Gus followed after him, making a point to lock the door behind him. “I'm not letting this go, Shawn.”


	6. Two Wrongs Make a Dead End (Unless You Ask For Directions)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late posting this. I haven't had the energy to think the last few days, let alone fight with the various fanficiton sites to get this up. 
> 
> This chapter is the first time I ever wrote Lassiter and when I started falling in love with that character. There is just so much hidden behind his gruff exterior that we don't get to see in the show. Anyone who is familiar with my stories knows how big a role he often plays and this is where it all started.

True to his word, Gus didn't let it go. He spent the entire drive to the police station trying to convince Shawn to turn Nikki in. Gus's arguing strategy had two stages. Stage 1 was to try to convince the victim (ie. Shawn) through logic that Gus was right. Since his friend had tried that at the office and failed, he was now on Stage 2; list all the reasons he was right until the victim (ie. Shawn) gave in.

Since Stage 2 required very little input on his part, Shawn tuned Gus out. Instead, he used the ride to think about Nikki. He wasn't too worried about her breaking into the office. She hadn't taken anything valuable, just eaten some candy and read a magazine or two. While Gus may not agree, it all seemed harmless to him. What was more worrying was Nikki's reaction to any mention of her mom. She hadn't asked if he had talked to her. Rather, she asked what Shawn had found out about her mom. That, combined with all the other little things he had picked up over the last two days, made him wonder if he _should_ get the police involved.

“Reason 7,” Gus was saying. “If Nikki cons us, it proves you’re not a psychic. What psychic wouldn't pick up on a conman, or woman? We'll end up in prison for defrauding the police.” He glared at Shawn. “I don’t want to go to prison Shawn. I won’t do well in there.”

“Nobody is going to prison, Gus,” Shawn said in exasperation. Gus just shook his head and moved on to the next reason on the list. Shawn let his mind drift back to Nikki. She hadn't done anything criminal yet; at least nothing major. He really didn’t want to involve the police unless he absolutely had to. Beside his promise, things tended to get complicated and bogged down with all the bureaucracy and paperwork (which was half the reason he got cases solved before they did). No, until he found out more or something changed, it would be best to wait before bringing her to their attention.

Gus was still arguing as they walked inside. “Reason 23,” he said as they stopped in the middle of the station. “Nikki already broke into the office once. Who’s to say she won’t do it again, or break into someone else’s office? This could be the first step towards becoming a career criminal. In a year she could be robbing banks and on the lam. We should turn her in for her own good.” He paused. “Are you listening to me?”

“Not even a little.” Shawn scanned the station, looking for Juliet. He finally spotted her coming up the stairs from the interrogation rooms, her arms full of files. He waved until she spotted them.

“You have to tell her about Nikki,” Gus said quietly as Juliet headed towards them.

“I'm not telling her.”

“Dude, you have to,” Gus said, voice dropping to a whisper.

“I'm not telling her,” he hissed to Gus.

Juliet was almost up to them. Gus leaned in close to his ear. “Tell her,” he whispered slowly.

“Dude!” Shawn exclaimed, pushing Gus away. “Stop spitting in my ear.” He pulled up the edge of his shirt and bent sideways to wipe his ear clean.

“Hey guys.” Juliet frowned as she watched him contort his body as he dried his ear. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he said, dropping the edge of his shirt. He gave Gus a glare before turning a smile on the detective. “And how is my lovely Juliet today?”

“Swamped,” she huffed, shifting the files in her arms so she could brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I have six cases, including the robbery downtown yesterday.” She eyed him hopefully. “You didn't have any visions about the robbery, did you?”

Shawn shook his head. “Sorry Jules. The spirits are a little swamped right now.”

“It's okay,” she said with a sigh. “I know you can't control what visions you have.” He hated disappointing her, but between the setback on the Sanders’ case and still no progress finding Nikki’s father he didn’t have time to work on the robbery as well.

Gus leaned over to him again. “Tell her,” he whispered, though thankfully not in his ear. Shawn elbowed him in the side.

“Tell me what?” Juliet asked, looking from him to Gus.

“How lovely you look today,” he said, giving Gus a pointed look to keep quiet. “ _And_ that I have some new information on the Sanders case.” He put his hand to his head as he said, “I'm getting a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer.”

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because last night you said anyone that looks like Noah Vosen from the _Bourne Ultimatum_ had to be the killer.”

“I did, but I realized this morning he looks more like Dr. Lee Rosen from _Alphas_.”

“Weren't both characters played by the same actor?” Gus asked. “And Rosen wasn’t exactly a saint himself.”

“Exactly,” Shawn said. “Which is why my psychic cross-hairs were tangled. That makes Pratt an ass, but not a murderer.” He looked at Juliet. “We just need to talk to Pratt and I'll prove I'm right.”

“Carlton just brought him into Interrogation Room B,” she said. The guys tried to walk towards the stairs but she stopped them. “He's not going to let you talk to Pratt.”

“Jules, Lassie loves us,” Shawn protested. Next to him, Gus rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he won't let us talk to Pratt?”

“Because he said he doesn't want you talking to Pratt,” Juliet said. “He doesn't want you to muck up the case. _His_ words, not mine,” she added defensively at his look.

“Muck up? Really?” Shawn asked incredulously. “Who says 'muck up' anymore?” He turned to Gus. “Someone please get Lassie to use slang from the 20th century.”

“It's the 21st century, Shawn,” Gus said.

“Really?” he asked, confused. “Since when?”

“Since 13 years ago,” Gus said with exasperation.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Shawn complained. “Did we at least win Y2K?”

Gus elbowed him in the side. “Focus Shawn.”

Shawn turned back to Juliet. She was used to his exchanges with Gus and didn't seem fazed by the random tangent they had veered off on. “Jules, sweetie. Do you think you can get us in to see Pratt?” He gave her his most pleading, puppy dog look.

Unfortunately, constant exposure had made Juliet immune to his look. “Sorry Shawn,” she said. “But I'm too busy to arbitrate between you and Carlton. If you want to talk to Pratt, you're on your own.” She turned and headed to her desk.

“What are we going to do now?” Gus asked.

“Plan B,” Shawn said with a grin. He went down the stairs Juliet had just come up, heading for the interrogation rooms.

* * *

Lassiter stood in the middle of Interrogation Room B, arms crossed, glaring at Pratt. He liked to start every interrogation with a steady, unwavering glare. It always left suspects feeling nervous and unsettled, sometimes even frightened. Using this method, he'd had perps break before he asked the first question.

Pratt, however, seemed to be made of sterner stuff than the usual lowlifes off the street. Lassiter had been glaring for five minutes already and Pratt hadn't so much as bated an eyelash, returning the detective’s gaze with an eerie intensity. What had started as an intimidation technique had turned into a battle of wills between himself and the suspect. Neither man was willing to back down. The tension was mounting and soon one of them would break. Lassiter was determined it would not be him.

Spencer's voice rang out in the silent room, causing both him and Pratt to jump. “As much fun as it is watching you two gaze into each other's eyes, perhaps Detective Lassiter should ask a question.”

“Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, glaring at the two-way mirror. He couldn't see the annoying pseudo psychic but he knew he was there, and probably making faces at him too. “This is an official interrogation. Stop interfering.”

“How can I interfere in an interrogation if you aren't actually interrogating him?” Spencer asked. “Unless you were planning on wooing him with your baby blues to get him to confess.” Lassiter didn’t need to see his face; he could hear the smirk in Spencer's voice.

Lassiter heard a snort behind him. Turning, he saw Pratt sitting there with a smirk of his own. “Boyfriend trouble?” the doctor asked snidely.

He could feel his control of the situation slipping. He had to get rid of Spencer before this whole thing got out of hand. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Pratt through clenched teeth.

“Take your time,” Pratt said, waving his hand. “I was growing bored anyway.”

Growling under his breath, Lassiter stormed out of the interrogation room. In the hallway, he took a minute to compose himself. He would not let Spencer see how much this was getting to him. Once he felt calmer, he opened the door to the observation room.

Spencer and Guster were standing at the window looking at Pratt. They turned as he entered the room. “I don't think you have a chance with him,” Spencer said. “He's _way_ out of your league.”

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Lassiter asked, trying his best to stay calm.

“Here in this room? The station? This town? Or did you mean more philosophically on this earth? Really, Lassie, you need to be more specific.” Spencer grinned at him.

“ _Spencer_ ,” he growled, his temper rising once more.

“I have a strong feeling Pratt is not our killer,” Spencer said in his usual cocky way.

Lassiter clenched his hands at his side to keep himself from giving in to the impulse to strangle the consultant. It would be a bad idea; Guster would be sure to make a fuss and attract attention before he could hide the body. “He had motive, means, and opportunity. We have his fingerprints on the lab equipment that was tampered with. The only thing we don’t have is a signed confession but if you leave me alone and let me do my job I will have that as well.”

“Come on, I can prove it,” Spencer said, practically whining. “Just give me five minutes with him.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Pretty please with ice cream on top?”

“No Spencer.”

“OK,” Spencer said, holding up his hands in surrender.

“OK?” Lassiter asked, suddenly suspicious. Spencer never gave in that easily.

“If you don't want me to talk to Pratt, there's nothing I can do,” Spencer said with a shrug. He sounded oddly innocent, which made Lassiter even more worried. Spencer patted Guster on the shoulder, who looked just as suspicious as Lassiter at Spencer’s capitulation. “I guess we can go back upstairs and talk to Jules. We can talk about Val Kilmer, John Landis films. Or,” Spencer said with a shit eating grin, “tap dancing.”

Lassiter froze. “Tap dancing?” he asked hesitantly. Guster had taught him some tap moves during a case and he had found it oddly relaxing. He had started taking tap lessons in an effort to control his anger (at the insistence of his therapist, _not_ because he enjoyed it). He had been very careful to make sure no one found out about it. He had signed up under a false name and never took the same route to the studio. He paid for the lessons in cash to prevent a paper trail. O’Hara didn’t even know he was taking them. There was _no way_ Spencer knew.

“Tap dancing,” Spencer confirmed. “Specifically the Tuesday night class at Dance Unlimited.” His mouth went dry as Spencer grinned at him. “I hear someone is getting good.”

“No one would believe you,” he said weakly. He knew this was a lie; everyone believed whatever ridiculous thing the psychic said. But as long as Spencer didn't have proof, he could still deny it.

“I have pictures,” Spencer said, shattering his hopes.

He let out a frustrated growl as he glared at Spencer. Guster looked nervous but Spencer just smiled back, knowing he had the detective beat. “Five minutes?” he asked, reluctantly giving in to Spencer's request.

“That's all I'll need.” Spencer patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

“Tap lessons?” Guster asked cautiously.

“I find it relaxing,” he said grudgingly. Guster was one person who wouldn't tease him about the tap classes; the man took them himself after all.

“If you ever need someone to practice with – ”

“Stop talking,” Lassiter groaned. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind he only seemed to get whenever Spencer was around. At least Guster would stay quiet; unlike his friend, _he_ knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Lassiter watched as Spencer sauntered into the interrogation room. He took a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He leaned on the back of the chair as he addressed Pratt. “Hey Pratt, how's it hanging?” He held out his hand. “Shawn Spencer, psychic. We met yesterday.”

“That's Dr. Pratt to the likes of you, charlatan,” Pratt said, ignoring Spencer's hand.

“Again no handshake? You wound me good sir,” Spencer said, putting his hand to his heart.

“You’re wasting my air,” Pratt said disdainfully. “Leave.”

“Harsh man,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “You should be nicer to the people trying to help you.”

“You?” Pratt asked with a laugh. “I'd have better luck with a vagrant off the street. Who are you going to call as witnesses? Tinkerbell and Bigfoot?”

“Everyone knows Tinkerbell isn't real,” Spencer said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Although I can check on the availability of Bigfoot.”

“My tolerance for stupidity ran out with the so-called detective in here earlier,” Pratt said haughtily. “Go con somebody else. I don't need your help.”

“Even with all the evidence against you? Even with your known rivalry with the victim?” Spencer snorted. “Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want my help.”

“You have to be equals to be rivals,” Pratt said. “Sanders was a joke. He wasn't even worth a second glance until six months ago. I go on sabbatical and he manages to publish seven papers while I'm gone, but even that just brings him up to mildly annoying. Certainly not _important_ enough to kill.”

“Even though funding was being cut from one of the labs?” Spencer asked.

“I wasn't worried,” Pratt said with a smug grin. “Now, you're giving me a headache.” _So I'm not the only one,_ Lassiter thought. “Leave.”

“If that's what you want,” Spencer said with a shrug. He got up and headed for the door. “Just make sure to tell Lassie about that sweet new government job.”

“Wait!”

Spencer stopped with his hand on the door knob. He threw a grin at the two-way mirror before heading back to the table.

“What job?” Lassiter asked, turning to Guster. He had done the background check himself on Pratt. There had been no mention of a new government job, or any new job for that matter.

“Shawn had a vision,” Guster said. _Of course he did_ , Lassiter thought sourly. “He was offered a job at the Department of Defense.”

“Then why couldn't I find out anything about it?” Lassiter asked. Guster just shrugged. Grumbling, he brought his attention back to the interrogation room.

Spencer was once again sitting in front of Pratt. “What do you know?” Pratt was asking.

“I know someone got a very cushy government job recently,” Spencer said. “Someone who wouldn't need to kill over university funding.”

“Nice theory,” Pratt said evenly.

“Nice theory?” Spencer exclaimed. “I'm totally right! You should be jumping for joy. Or at least smiling. Maybe a little giddy?” He looked at Pratt's face, which showed no emotion whatsoever. “This totally gets you off the hook,” he explained. He kept looking at Pratt, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“I'm not saying another word,” Pratt said. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.

“But this clears you,” Spencer said again, confused.

Pratt said nothing.

“This one of those secret government jobs no one is supposed to know about, isn’t it?” Spencer asked, pointing at Pratt. Pratt's gaze didn't waver an inch.

“But if you don't say anything, you'll go to jail and they won't know I'm right,” Spencer whined. “They have motive, means, and opportunity. Your prints were on the chemicals in the lab. Plus you were sabotaging Sanders' experiments.” He sighed gustily when Pratt continued to sit there silently.

“Sabotage, uh,” Lassiter said. Spencer had proven useful after all. He didn't believe for a second the bogus job offer. Pratt wasn't the type of man to keep it a secret, even if it was a matter of national security. However, if Pratt really was sabotaging Sanders’ experiments, he would have a virtually airtight case. He made a mental note to talk again with the lab staff and see if anyone noticed anything suspicious.

“Come on, you have to talk sometime,” Spencer said pleadingly. Clearly the silent treatment was getting to him.

Pratt opened his mouth. “I want a lawyer.”

Spencer threw up his hands. “Fine. Do it the hard way. I'm going to go find the real killer.” He got up and stomped out of the room, reminding Carlton of a five year old throwing a tantrum.

Grinning, Lassiter went to meet Spencer in the hallway. “Good going Spencer,” he said. “Not only did you not prove his innocence, you got him to lawyer up.” He slowly clapped his hands mockingly.

“I got him to say more than you did with your staring contest,” Spencer said petulantly.

“Unfortunately, none of it was useful,” Lassiter said, enjoying Spencer's failure. “In fact, you provided more useful information than the suspect did.” He grinned at Spencer's confusion. “Sabotaging experiments certainly looks guilty to me.” He patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past him. He was going to get started on this new lead right away.

“But he's not the killer.” he heard Spencer yell after him.

Lassiter just kept walking, smiling to himself. As he headed up the stairs, he realized that Spencer could be useful, on occasion. When he wasn't mucking things up or running around like an overgrown child. “O'Hara,” he said as he reached his desk. “Pull up the list of staff for Sanders' and Pratt's labs. I want to talk to them again.”

* * *

“Well, that didn't go as planned,” Shawn muttered as he and Gus followed behind Lassiter up the stairs and back onto the main floor of the station. “We have no leads and I think I made the case against Pratt stronger.” He stopped in the foyer and watched as Lassiter went to his desk and immediately called for Juliet. “I almost wish Pratt did do it. He's kind of a prick.”

“There's no ‘kind of’ about it,” Gus replied. “What do we do now?”

“Grab some Del Taco and reexamine the case,” Shawn said. He had been working all morning and skipped breakfast again. If he didn't eat soon, he was thinking of turning cannibal. “Come on.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Gus asked. Shawn turned around to find Gus still standing where he had left him, arms crossed.

“Let's see.” Shawn started counting points off on his hand as he walked back to Gus. “I said hi to Jules and annoyed Lassie. We got nowhere with Pratt.” He thought for a moment, recounting the points on his fingers. “Nope, that's it. Nothing forgotten.”

“What about the fingerprint?” Gus asked. “You said you would have Juliet check it out.”

“Dude, I thought we agreed to drop this,” Shawn said with frustration. He always went with his gut when deciding whether people were trustworthy, and his gut trusted Nikki. His gut was also complaining how empty it was and didn't like the delay in filling it.

“I never agreed to anything,” Gus said. “You, on the other hand, agreed to have Juliet check the print. Someone was in our office and I want to know who it was.” He looked at Shawn intently.

“Fine,” Shawn snapped irritably. “If it means we can finally get out of here and get some food, I'll show Juliet the print.” He looked around for the detective and saw her heading towards the evidence room. “Hey Jules!” he called, waving her over.

“What is it, Shawn?” she asked when she reached them. “Lassiter wants to re-interview most of the lab staff and I still have made no progress on the robbery. So keep it quick please.” She looked harried by all the interruptions.

“Real quick,” he promised. “I just need you to check something for me.” He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but it wasn't there. “Just a second.” He quickly check his other pockets but came up empty. “Damn, my wallet is missing.” He tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.

“I don't have time right now,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts. “When you actually have something to show me, then you can bother me.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “See you tonight.” She hurried off back towards the evidence room.

“You lost your wallet? Where have I heard that excuse before?” Gus asked sarcastically. He tsked and shook his head.

“What? I really lost it,” Shawn complained. He turned out his pockets to show Gus they were empty. “I must have left it at the office.”

“I saw you put it back in your pocket before Nikki showed up,” Gus said. He frowned at Shawn. “This isn't just a ploy to make me pay for the food, is it?”

“Gus, you know you were going to pay anyway,” he said absentmindedly. He was going over in his head the last time he remembered having his wallet. He put the fingerprint card in the wallet, then put the wallet in his pocket. He didn't remember taking it out after that. “Let's go. Maybe it fell out in the car.” He headed for the door, checking his pockets again like the wallet would magically appear in one of them.

“I hope you find it soon. That print is a key piece of evidence,” Gus said, following Shawn out of the police station.

* * *

“Did you find your wallet?”

“What?” Shawn asked, looking up from his dinner. He had been thinking about the Sanders' case. Gus had had a route that afternoon, so he was left with reexamining the case so far. He was thinking of stopping back at the school tomorrow to talk to the students working in the lab. Maybe they knew something that would point to the killer. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't heard what Juliet said. “Sorry, the spirits are a little loud tonight. Could you repeat that?”

Juliet rolled her eyes but repeated the question. “Did you find your wallet?”

“Yeah, I left it at the Psych office,” he lied. She nodded and went back to her food. In truth, he still hadn't found his wallet. It wasn't in the Blueberry or at the office. He hadn't been anywhere else before he noticed it was missing. Gus had been annoyed he had to pay for the food again but that was normal. He hoped it turned up soon, before Gus noticed the other credit card he had borrowed.

“You're awfully quiet tonight,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts again.

“Am I?” he asked, surprised. He hadn't realized he was spending that much time brooding over the case. “I'm sorry. I know you cherish our delightful dinner conversation.”

“Quiet is nice too,” Juliet said. “Especially compared to the time you decided to describe the Saw movies to me over dinner. _In detail_.” She made a face and shuddered. “I don't think I can ever eat ravioli again without remembering that conversation.”

“You asked what Gus and I did all day,” he said in defense. “I was just explaining what we were watching.”

“It was still gross,” Juliet said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed at her expression and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. The conversation turned to safer, less appetite ruining topics. He was able to keep both the Sanders' case and his missing wallet off his mind for the rest of the meal.

Later, they sat on the couch watching _Miss Congeniality_. It wasn't really his type of movie but Juliet liked it. A light rain was falling outside, the gentle pattering adding a cozy feel to the evening. Relaxed and bored, his mind started to wander. He thought again of his missing wallet. He mentally retraced his every step since the last time he saw it. He put it in his pocket. Nikki came in. He moved in front of his desk. She choked. They talked. He escorted her out of the office. She tripped and fell into him on the way to the door –

He groaned, realizing what must have happened. Juliet looked over at him with concern. “Is everything OK?” she asked.

He nodded. “Just imagining what a bikini wax must feel like,” he said.

Juliet looked at him strangely. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah, my mind is a little behind tonight,” he said. It was the last scene he remembered watching before his mind wandered. “But keep watching. I know you enjoy it.” She gave him another strange look before turning back to the movie. He tried to keep his face calm but inside he was kicking himself. Gus was right; Nikki was nothing but a thief. She had picked his pocket when she fell into him. That's why he couldn't find his wallet. He was upset he hadn't seen it before. He was usually a better judge of character.

Juliet looked back over at him. “Are you sure everything is all right? You're awfully tense.”

“Yeah, just thinking about a case,” Shawn said. He hated to do it, but maybe it was time to get some outside help. “Remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“The one looking for her father?” Jules asked.

He nodded. “That's her, I'm having a real hard time tracking him down.” He sighed and put on his pitiful look. “I think there's too much interference on the psychic wavelengths from the Sanders' case. I don't want to disappoint her.” He looked down as if defeated.

Just as he knew she would, Juliet jumped at the opening. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, looking sympathetic.

“Well, if you could run her name, see what you find out, it would be really helpful,” he said, still keeping up the sad act. “Maybe then I can clear my psychic channels and track her father down.”

“Of course,” Juliet said. “Anything to help a poor girl.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Don't worry, it will all turn out OK.” She smiled as he looked up at her.

“Thanks Jules,” he said sincerely. He hated lying to her, but if she knew Nikki was stealing she would want to bring her in. He wasn't ready to turn her over to the police just yet. He still felt there was more going on with the case.

“Now stop worrying and watch the movie,” Juliet ordered.

He obediently snuggled in closer to her, shoving both cases to the back of his mind, and just tried to enjoy spending time with the woman he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on Monday like usual.


	7. Another One Bites the Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home sick today so I decided to post this early. I'm not sure how many people are actually reading this but I'll remain optimistic and continue to post. I know I'm not the best at remembering to leave reviews and I've been horrible at responding to them. But I do read and appreciate them.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the story.

_Thursday_

  
  


A muffled pounding woke Shawn up the next morning. Listening as the remnants of his last dream faded away (a cage match between Hacksaw Jim Duggan and a giant pineapple), he realized the pounding was coming from the front door. He groaned and curled up with the blankets over his head. “Go away,” he grumbled into his pillow.

The pounding continued. In addition, he could now hear what sounded like someone shouting his name. He peered blearily at the alarm clock, squinting until the time came into focus; 7:15. “It's barely morning,” he moaned, covering his head with his pillow. He never liked mornings, rarely rising before nine if he could help it. Besides, he had been up most of the night worrying about both his cases. He had no leads on Sanders' killer and no idea what to do about Nikki. The last thing he needed was someone waking him up at this obscene hour of the morning.

The pounding stopped. He cautiously poked his head out from under the pillow. When it remained quiet, he sighed in relief. Whoever it was must have given up. It couldn't have been that important anyway. If it was, they would have tried calling him by now. Deciding there was nothing pressing that required his immediate attention, at least for a couple of hours, he got comfortable and tried to fall back asleep. He was just drifting off when someone barged into his bedroom.

“Shawn!”

He let out a yelp and flailed in the sheets, trying to get free so he could face his attacker. The sheets proved to be on the side of his assailant, keeping him securely wrapped as he tumbled off the side of the bed. As he struggled to free himself from the death grip of the sheets, he heard familiar laughter coming from the doorway. Pausing in his battle, he looked up and saw Gus standing there, clutching his sides as he guffawed at Shawn's predicament. “Not funny, dude,” he said testily, still struggling to get out of one of the sheets.

“You’re wrapped up like a human burrito,” Gus wheezed between bouts of laughter.

Ripping off the sheet at last, Shawn climbed up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. “How did you even get in here?”

“You gave me a key, remember?” Gus said, quieting down but still grinning widely.

“Right, yeah.” Shawn rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to kick-start his brain. He had been making copies of Gus's keys for years. It made it much easier to get into his friend's place while Gus was out. Recently, Gus had been demanding a copy of his key in return. It mostly sat unused, unless Gus was retrieving something Shawn had 'borrowed' with his own key. “Just don't tell Juliet you have a key. She would kill me.” At the thought of his girlfriend, he realized she wasn't in the room. “Where is Jules, anyway?”

“At the crime scene, where you're supposed to be.” Gus frowned at Shawn. “Don't you ever charge your phone?”

“I charged it.” Shawn reached over to the night stand and started digging through the mess on top. “See,” he said, holding the phone up for Gus. He pressed a button to wake it up. Nothing happened. He fiddled with the phone for a minute, then looked sheepishly at Gus. “I _thought_ I charged it.”

“That's what Juliet figured when she couldn't reach you,” Gus said. “She called me to wake you up and bring you to the crime scene.”

Shawn vaguely remembered Juliet getting a phone call early that morning. _Way_ too early. She had said something to him, but he had just mumbled and gone back to sleep. She probably didn't think at the time he was needed on the case, or she would have tried harder to wake him up. “Let me throw some clothes on and we can go.”

“I'll wait outside,” Gus said looking back over his shoulder. “Try not to get into any more fights with your sheets while I’m gone.”

Shawn glared after his friend as he left the room. He’d have to come up with something good to get Gus back for this morning. However, that would have to wait for later; right now he had a crime scene to get to. He threw the sheets back on the bed and quickly dressed. He made sure to grab his car charger for his phone before heading outside to meet Gus. It looked like it was going to be another long day.

* * *

“How much farther?” Shawn whined. He and Gus were traipsing across the damp fields of Howell Park, heading for the trail head. It hadn't seemed that far on the map, but it felt like they had been walking for hours.

“About thirty seconds less than the last time you asked,” Gus said irritably. He could tell his friend was getting annoyed by the question and grinned to himself. “I told you in the car. It's about a twenty minute walk.” Up ahead they could just make out yellow police tape cordoning off an area of the trail head. “We're almost there.”

“Finally!” Shawn cried dramatically. “Civilization! A beacon out of this horrid wilderness!” He fell to his knees, arms outstretched to the sky.

“Will you get up?” Gus snapped, pulling Shawn to his feet. “We're in a park. There are people right over there.” He pointed out a couple enjoying an early morning stroll with their dog. He shook his head. “I knew stopping for coffee was a bad idea. It makes you hyperactive.”

“And also more hyper-observanter. . . mega-observant? Is mega better than hyper?” Shawn wiped at the damp grass stains on his pants. “Either way, it _means_ I'll notice whatever the cops missed even quicker.” He started walking again, bouncing slightly with each step. Coffee did make him more jittery than normal.

“How do you know they'll miss anything?” Gus asked.

He gave Gus a look. “They always miss something. Otherwise we would have been out of business years ago.” Gus didn't seem to have an argument for that. “Tell me again what Jules said about the body.”

“It was found soon after the park opened by a young couple on their morning hike,” Gus said. Shawn made a face. _Who in their right mind wakes up that early to exercise?_ “The police thought he might be homeless until they saw the acid burns on his face and hands,” Gus finished.

“Acid burns?” Shawn asked, intrigued. That wasn't a common MO, especially if the victim was homeless. Acid strong enough to cause disfiguring burns wasn't readily available to most people either. There was also the question of why someone would want to burn a homeless man with acid.

Unless, of course, he wasn't really homeless and this was all to throw the police off track. If the killer worked in a chemistry lab, they would have easy access to a smorgasbord of dangerous chemicals to cause the burns. “Dude, I think this death is related to the Sanders' case,” Shawn said, jumping up and down in his excitement.

“Maybe that's why the police called you in,” Gus said. He grabbed Shawn’s arm to hold him still. “Will you calm down? You're acting like a hyperactive five year old.” They had reached the crime scene and he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed Shawn's antics.

“You're acting like a five year old,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out at Gus. He flinched at his friend’s glare. “OK,” he said placatingly. “I'll try to calm down.”

“Good,” Gus said. “You don't need another reason for Lassiter to block us from this case.” He nodded towards the detective visible behind the crime scene tape.

“Lassie-face,” Shawn called, waving to the detective. “Isn't it a lovely morning?”

“Spencer, how nice of you to join us,” Lassiter said sarcastically as he walked towards them. “It's only been what, an hour, since we called you?”

“Carlton, play nice,” Juliet admonished, coming up to stand next to her partner. She smiled at her boyfriend. “Nice to see you're finally awake Shawn.” She turned to Gus. “Thanks for getting him. Did he forget to charge his phone again?”

“Yes,” Gus said. “I had to pound on the door for ten minutes before he would even get up.” He shook his head as if to say 'That's Shawn for you.'

“He really doesn't like to wake up early,” she said in agreement. “When I get up for work, he usually just rolls over and goes back to sleep.”

“You should have seen him in high school,” Gus said. “He almost didn't graduate because of the number of times he was late for homeroom.”

“I'd believe it,” Juliet said. “Sometimes it feels like I'm living with a teenager.” Gus nodded sympathetically, causing her to smile.

Shawn watched this exchange with disbelief. “You do know I'm standing right here,” he said, causing both parties to look at him. “Right in front of you. Hearing everything your saying.” He held up his hand and waved it in front of Gus's face. “I haven't turned invisible, have I?”

Gus slapped his hand away. “We can see you Shawn,” he said. “But it would be nice if you were a little more responsible.” He gave Shawn a disappointed look.

“Enough talking about _me_ ,” Shawn said in frustration. “Shouldn't we be discussing the case?” He turned to the older detective. “Lassie, you hate personal stuff. Tell them to 'get back to work', or 'leave that crap at home,'” he said, using his best gruff 'Lassiter' voice.

“I don't know,” Lassiter said with an amused grin. “I think I might let it slide, just this once.” He grinned wider at Shawn's discomfort.

“Then I'll just investigate on my own,” he said, turning his nose up at them. He stormed off into the woods in a huff.

After a second, Juliet caught up with him. “We were just joking around,” she said soothingly. “Don't take it so personally.” When he didn't respond, she pulled him to a stop. “What's bothering you?” she asked, giving his face a searching look.

He gave her a weak grin. “Just didn't get enough sleep, I guess.” He couldn't tell her he was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Both cases were becoming more complicated than he originally thought. He was almost glad for this new body, if it provided some insight into the Sanders' case.

He was also getting tired of the constant comments about his immaturity. He knew how his actions looked to others, but goofing around was how he coped with the stress the police cases brought on. If he started taking things too seriously, he'd probably snap. He had come close a few times in the past, particularly after his dad was shot.

He didn't want to come that close again.

A noise behind him broke his train of thought. Lassiter and Gus were walking through the woods towards them. “I'll be fine,” he said, giving Juliet a reassuring grin. She nodded, but still looked a little worried. He motioned Juliet to lead the way and continued heading through the woods.

Lassiter and Gus caught up with them just as they reached the clearing with the body. Gus took one look at it and started making those weird noises he did when he was trying not to throw up. “Excuse me,” he said, walking off into the woods. Shawn could see him stop about twenty feet away and lean against a tree, taking deep breaths.

Shawn moved closer to the body to get a better look. He couldn't blame Gus for his reaction. The victim was lying on his back, giving everyone a perfect view of his horribly burned face. The skin looked like it had almost melted. He also noticed the same burns on the victim's hands. The body was dressed in torn jeans and a ragged t-shirt. The victim was barefoot and Shawn didn’t see any dirt or cuts on his feet, proving the victim didn’t walk to this location. A jagged slash across the throat made cause of death clear.

“Victim appears to be in his twenties,” Lassiter said after a moment. All trace of humor was gone from his voice. “No ID found on the body and those burns will make a facial match or fingerprinting impossible.” He pointed to a path of disturbed leaves through the woods. “Victim was dragged here from the trail head. Tire tracks showed the victim was transported using one of the park's golf carts.”

“There are golf carts?” Shawn asked, looking up. “Dude, did you know there were golf carts?” he called to Gus. “We could have ridden one of those instead of walking here.” Gus waved weakly at him but refused to move closer to the body. He looked back at Lassiter. “Did anyone find the cart?”

“We did,” Lassiter said. “It was the only golf cart in the garage with mud on the tires. Forensics went over it, but didn't even find a fingerprint.” He shrugged. “They checked the other carts just to be safe. Nothing.”

“Lack of blood on the clothing suggests they were put on after death,” Juliet said. “CSU already went over the scene but the rain washed away any evidence the killer may have left behind. The victim is dressed like he's homeless, but we don't think he was.” She came up next to Shawn. “Is there anything you can sense about his identity?”

Shawn looked the body over again. The clothing was ill-fitting, probably because it wasn’t the victim’s own. The killer had removed any article covered in blood or that could contain any trace that could be linked back to him. It showed the killer was smart, which would make him that much harder to catch.

Crouching near the head, Shawn looked more closely at the fatal wound. He noticed a tiny sliver of glass, likely left behind by the murder weapon. He also noticed the edge of a familiar tattoo peeking out from under the stretched neckline of the shirt. “Your right, he wasn't homeless,” he said, glancing up at Juliet. “He has a home, and a job at the prestigious Santa Barbara University.” He stood up and faced the two detectives. “More specifically, he works in the chemistry department.”

“You're saying this is connected to the Sanders' case?” Lassiter asked skeptically.

Shawn hissed, putting his hand to his temple. “I'm seeing the victim and his killer. They're arguing about something. Tempers grow heated. The killer grabs something made of glass, smashes it, and uses it to cut the victim's throat.” He mimed slashing at someone, then clutched his own throat and started choking. He stumbled back a few steps. “The killer used some kind of acid to burn the victim's face and hands to delay identification.” He flinched and made sizzling sounds, as if something was burning him. “ _I'm melting. I'm melting_ ,” he croaked, falling down to the ground. “Then he dressed him up like a homeless person and dumped him in the woods far from the school, hoping to lead the police off track.” He climbed back up to his feet and stood there panting as he looked triumphantly at the two detectives.

“We can pull up the list of students and techs working in the two labs, see if anyone is missing,” Juliet said to Lassiter.

“No need,” Shawn said. “I'm sensing if you check the victim's right collar bone, you'll find a tattoo of a Chinese character. Some say it’s the character for 'soup.' Others disagree, as if someone doesn't know what he is talking about.” He glared over at Gus.

Juliet pulled on the victim's shirt collar, exposing the tattoo. “He's right,” she called over to Lassiter.

“His name is Sam Cooper,” Shawn said. “A bright eyed college student we met yesterday who worked in both Sanders' and Pratt's labs.”

“O'Hara,” Lassiter said. “Have someone check on Cooper and see if he's really missing.” She called one of the other cops over and started giving him instructions. He turned to Shawn. “Good work, Spencer,” he said grudgingly.

“Always happy to help Lassie,” he said with a grin. He stepped back as Lassiter directed the coroner's men to remove the body. He was heading over to join Gus when he heard a commotion in the woods behind him.

“What's going on?” Lassiter asked. Shawn turned as McNab came out of the woods, dragging Nikki along behind him. He exchanged a quick, worried glance with Gus before moving closer.

“I found her sneaking around in the woods,” McNab said to Lassiter. “She said she was lost and didn't realize this was a crime scene.” Even McNab didn't look convinced by this story.

“Oh, really?” Lassiter asked, eyeing Nikki. She was wearing the ripped jeans and blue sweatshirt again. It made her appear older than fifteen, old enough that she might look like a college student to a certain detective. “Well, let's just see what your story is after you take a trip downtown.” He turned to McNab. “Bring her in. I'll question her myself after I finish here.” Shawn saw fear in Nikki's eyes as McNab started leading her away.

“Wait!” Shawn called. All eyes turned towards him. He heard Gus approach as he said, “She's with me.”

“What are you doing?” Gus whispered behind him.

“Improvising,” he hissed back.

“What do you mean, she's with you?” Lassiter asked suspiciously.

Juliet walked over and eyed Nikki speculatively. She glanced at Shawn, silently asking what was going on. He shook his head; the situation was too complicated to explain with a look. She frowned, but didn’t press it though he had no doubt she would be questioning him about Nikki as soon as she could.

He turned back to Nikki and met her pleading gaze. She may have gotten herself into this, but he wasn’t going to abandon her to Lassiter. “She's my psychic apprentice,” he said, remembering the conversation from yesterday. He saw the startled look in Nikki's eyes and hoped she would be able to pull this off.

“Then why was she wondering around in the woods alone?” Lassiter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I asked her to check to see if she could sense the killer's astral trail,” he explained. He gestured at Nikki proudly. “She really is quite gifted.”

“Really,” Lassiter said doubtfully. He turned to Nikki. “Let her go McNab.” Once she was free, Lassiter said, “Alright, prove it.” He motioned to the body. “Tell me what you sense, 'psychic.'” He crossed his arms with a smirk, anticipating Nikki's failure.

Nikki glanced nervously at Shawn. He nodded encouragingly and gave her a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, she approached the body. She looked over it quickly, then closed her eyes. She held her arms straight out over the body, as if sensing the flow of energy around it. Shawn approved, having used the same move himself only a couple of days ago. “I'm sensing this person is not what they seem. These clothes are not his; they are a disguise. Someone doesn't want you to know who this person is.” She frowned in concentration and rubbed the side of her neck. “I feel a burning on here. Some kind of mark that might identify the victim.” She moved her hands back and forth over the body again. “I'm also sensing the killer wore gloves, which is why there were no fingerprints on the golf cart.” She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

He nodded approvingly at her. She did good, confirming most of the details he had 'sensed' about the victim, though less showy then he would have done it. She had even figured out why they hadn't found any fingerprints on the golf cart. He guessed she had been spying on them, picking up what details she could about the crime, before she got caught. “Satisfied, Lassie?” he asked, grinning at the detective.

“Well. . .” Lassiter said, clearly not wanting to just let Nikki go. Juliet elbowed him in the side and gave him a look. Lassiter rolled his eyes. “OK, fine. She's free to go. Just keep her away from my crime scenes. The last thing I need is another psychic messing things up.” He noticed everyone standing around watching them. “Back to work people!” he shouted.

“OK, let's go,” Shawn said to Nikki as the crowd slowly dispersed. He quickly led the way away from the crime scene. “We need to talk,” he said quietly to her. She nodded, swallowing nervously.

“Shawn, a word please,” Juliet called out.

“Gus, take her to the car,” Shawn said quietly. Gus nodded. He turned back to Juliet as Gus led Nikki away. “What is it, my magnificent princess?” he said grandly.

Juliet frowned. “Who was that girl?”

“My apprentice,” he said. “I've been thinking of finding one so I can pass on all the wisdom I've accumulated over the years. Things like which food carts along the boardwalk serve the best snacks and the short cuts to take to beat Lassiter to a crime scene. She must have sensed I was looking because she showed up at the office and asked for the job.” His dad always said every good lie had a grain of truth in it. Nikki had shown up at the Psych office on her own, and had, sort of, asked for the job.

“You never mentioned an apprentice before,” Juliet said. She clearly doubted his story, even if she had sided with him against Lassiter.

“That's because she just started,” Shawn said dismissively. Juliet still looked suspicious. “Look, is something wrong?” he asked, switching to the offensive.

“I don't know,” she said, crossing her arms. “Is there?” She stared him straight in the eye, waiting to catch him in a lie. He stared straight back, keeping his gaze steady and confidant.

“O'Hara!” Lassiter called. “Fraternize later. We have work to do.” He glared at them from his position near the body.

Juliet looked away. “We'll talk later.”

Shawn watched her leave, her shoulders tight and back stiff. This complicated matters. He needed to deal with Nikki soon, before Juliet ran that background check and figured out she was his private case. It was time to get some straight answers from her and find out what she was hiding.

However, when he met Gus at the car, Nikki was nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?” he asked. He glanced inside the car, in case Nikki was hiding in there.

“She took off,” Gus said. He threw something at Shawn. “She said to give you this.”

It was his wallet. The cash was gone, but the fingerprint card and all everything else seemed to be in there. “Damn,” he said, pocketing the wallet. “I really needed to talk to her.”

“Did you know she stole your wallet?” Gus asked accusingly.

“Gus,” he said calmingly.

“I _knew_ she was up to no good.” Gus pointed at Shawn. “I told you this was a bad idea. Why didn't you tell the police the truth?”

“Because I promised her I wouldn't,” Shawn said. “But if she's going to keep breaking into crime scenes, I don't know how much longer I can cover for her.” He rubbed his temples. The whole thing was starting to give him a headache.

“Maybe you shouldn't,” Gus said. “The police are going to find out sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” he said, thinking of the background check. “But I'll deal with that when I have to.” His stomach took that moment to grumble loudly. He looked over at Gus. “How about we grab some breakfast?” he asked, climbing into the car.

Gus followed suit. “Okay, but since you have your wallet back, you're buying.” He looked smugly at Shawn. “And don't think you can use my credit card to pay for it. I checked your wallet for anymore 'borrowed' cards.”

“Why Burton Guster, you sneaky bastard,” he said proudly. “You have been learning. As a reward, I will pay for breakfast.” He buckled up as Gus started the car. “Let's get out of here.”


	8. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter contains subject matter that may be uncomfortable for some people. I don't think it's bad enough to up the rating on the story but I feel obligated to give everyone a heads up just in case.

That afternoon found Shawn once again alone at the Psych office. With such a light case load lately, Gus was picking up some extra routes to help pay the bills. Shawn had spent some time going over suspects in the Sanders' case, but no one stood out to him as a killer. With Nikki MIA, he decided to take some time to relax and catch up on the Mentalist. He was halfway through his second episode when his phone starting ringing. He glanced at the ID before answering. “Hey Jules. Anything new on the Sanders' case?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Jules? You there?”

“I got the results of Nikki's background check,” Juliet said finally. “You need to come down here.” She sounded eerily calm, which immediately put him on guard.

“Can't you just tell me over the phone?” he asked uneasily.

“Just get down here. And come alone.” She hung up.

He sat there for a minute, staring at his phone. What on earth had Juliet found out about Nikki that she wouldn't say over the phone? Nothing good sprang to mind. Growing more uneasy by the minute, he grabbed his keys and headed for the station.

* * *

Shawn went straight to Juliet when he arrived at the station. “Okay, I'm here,” he said, plopping down in the chair next to her desk. “What did you find out?”

She organized the folders on her desk. “I need you to be honest with me, Shawn,” she said without looking up.

“Of course,” he said. He assumed she had recognized Nikki as the girl from the crime scene and probably wanted an explanation.

She stacked the folders neatly on her desk and finally looked up at him. He was surprised by the anger in her eyes. “Did you know about her?” she asked.

“Look, she just wanted some help finding her father,” he explained. “I didn't know she would follow me to the crime scene.”

“Did you know why she wanted to find her father?” she asked, staring at him intently.

“She said she wasn't getting along with her mom,” he said slowly. “Her mom wouldn't tell her who her father was, so she hoped I could.” He saw Juliet close her eyes in relief. “Jules, what is going on?” he asked in confusion.

She hit a button on her keyboard and turned the computer monitor towards him. “I think you should read this.”

It was the results of Nikki's background check. He read through it quickly and his eyes widened. “Is this accurate?” he asked hoarsely, glancing at Juliet.

She nodded. “I double checked it myself.”

He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, that does explain a lot,” he said. Not wanting to talk about her mother, wanting no police involvement, all explained in two short paragraphs. However, it also painted a worrying picture for some of the other things he had noticed recently. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

Juliet sighed. “I just can't ignore this Shawn,” she said apologetically.

He sighed too. “I know.” He thought quickly, trying to find a solution. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't just turn her in to the police. “Can you give me a couple days? I think there is more going on then we know and I need the chance to talk to her.”

Juliet considered this, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I can.”

“Good,” he said in relief. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Do you have fingerprint records on her?”

“Um, yeah,” Juliet said. She called them up on the screen.

He pulled the fingerprint card out of his wallet and compared it to the prints on the screen. After a moment, he put it back and stood up. “I have to go,” he said. “I might be home late, so don't wait up.”

She grabbed his arm before he could leave. “I know you want to help but be careful. This girl has been through a lot already.” She released his arm, glancing around. “Call me if you need anything,” she said quietly.

He leaned down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. He turned away and left the station, heading to the one place he knew he could find Nikki.

* * *

The sun had already gone down and the Psych office was dark and silent. The only illumination came from the lights outside along the boardwalk. It was just enough light to make out a figure slowly easing the back door of the office open. They quietly made their way through the office, navigating by memory and the faint shapes that could be made out in the dim light. The person sat down at Shawn’s desk and started going through the drawers.

Suddenly, the overhead light clicked on. “Hello, Nikki.”

Nikki jumped, looking around wildly. Shawn stepped out from where he had been hiding by the front door. He was a little stiff from how long he had been standing there but his hunch had paid off. “I figured you would come in the back. We never remember to lock that door.”

“Sh-Shawn!” she stammered. She got up quickly and backed away, putting the desk between them. “It's not what it looks like,” she said quickly.

“I don't think anything about you is what it looks like,” he said, coming into the room. He gestured to the couch by the window. “Have a seat.” His gaze softened when he saw the frightened look on her face. “Don't worry. I just want to talk.”

She reluctantly sat down on the couch. He pulled his desk chair over to sit across from her. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked nervously.

He sighed, rubbing his hands. He had to do this carefully, or she would just run off again. The best thing would be if she voluntarily told him the truth. He didn't think it would be that easy, but he had to give her the chance to come clean. “Why don't you tell me what you're really doing here.”

“Here in the office?” she asked evasively.

“Here in Santa Barbara,” he clarified. “I know you're not from around here.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. Her eyes were wide and kept darting to the exits. She was poised on the edge of her chair, ready to run as soon as she felt threatened.

Shawn shifted the desk chair slightly, blocking her path to the back door. She noticed and swallowed nervously, warily looking up to meet his gaze. “Nikki Peterson, born in Columbia, North Carolina,” he said quietly. “Last known residence; Denver, Colorado.” He watched as her face paled. “Care to explain?”

“OK, so I had to travel a little farther than you thought to get here,” she said shakily. “And my mom doesn't know I'm here, so if you could just keep it quiet. . .” Her voice trailed off as she saw the pitying look on his face.

“Nikki,” he said gently. “I know about your mom.” She looked at him in shock. “I'm so sorry,” he said sincerely.

Tears started streaming down her face. She tried to hold back the sobs, but he could see she was fighting a losing battle. He moved onto the couch next to her but hesitated from touching her, unsure how she would react if he did. She studied him for a moment with tear-filled eyes before throwing herself into his arms.

He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her as she broke down completely, crying heavily into his shoulder. “It's okay,” he said, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “Let it out.” He could feel her trembling as the heart-wrenching sobs shook her frame. He wondered if anyone had been there for her when it happened. Judging by how much she was crying, he doubted it. This was probably the first time she had let go since. He couldn't believe she had been able to hold it together for this long on her own. He did what he could to help, holding her as she cried herself out.

After a few minutes, she pulled back from him. “Thanks,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I haven't cried like that since the night she died.” She looked down, sniffing loudly.

He grabbed a box of tissues off Gus's desk. He handed them to her and sat back down in the chair. “That was what, a week and a half ago?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The doctor said the cancer was unusually aggressive. She didn't have a chance.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue as fresh tears fell.

He gave her a minute to collect herself again. He had a feeling the next questions weren't going to be easy. “You weren't lying about having no other family,” he said. “So they put you in foster care.” She stiffened at his words, her face becoming guarded. “After two days, you disappeared.”

“It wasn't for me,” she said. “I decided to try to find my birth father instead. See if he would take me in.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he hear an undercurrent of fear in her voice.

“You seem like a bright kid,” he said. “You could have tried to find your birth father from Denver. They love to place foster kids with family if possible. So why did you suddenly take off like that?” He felt uncomfortable pressuring her like this, but he had to know the real reason she left if he was going to help her.

“You can't make me go back,” she said, her voice trembling. “I'll just run off again.” Her whole body had tensed up and she looked ready to bolt.

“I'm not making you go anywhere,” he said carefully. He was startled by the fear he saw in her eyes. “Look at me.” She met his gaze, eyes wide. “You're safe here. I won't send you back.” He saw a myriad of emotions flickering across her face; fear, distrust, panic, pain. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I promise. You can trust me,” he said. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He stared back levelly, willing her to believe him.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” she asked quietly.

“I promise,” he said, crossing his heart.

That earned him a small smile. “OK,” she said. “I'll tell you.” She leaned forwards, resting her arms on her knees. She stared at the floor as she talked. “The first night was OK. I wasn't the only foster kid. There was another girl and a guy staying there. The girl basically ignored me. I wasn't really in the mood to talk, so that was fine. The guy kept staring at me, but that was normal. I had guys staring at me all the time in school or at the mall.” She stopped talking, still staring at the floor. He could see how this was hard for her. He waited patiently, giving her the space to tell the story at her own pace. “Things didn't go well the second night. Since it was just the three of us, we each had our own rooms. It was late; everyone else was asleep. I heard someone open the door to my room.” She paused and took a deep, trembling breath. “He came in. The other foster kid. He said he just wanted to talk. And at first, that's all he did. Then he was holding my hand and leaning in close to me. He kissed me and started touching me. I tried to pull away and he hit me.” Her hand reached up, gently touching the side of her face. “Then he-he pulled off my shirt and pushed me down on the bed.” She stopped again, trembling hard.

“Nikki,” he said gently. “You don't have to say anymore if you don't want to.” She had already said more than enough for him to get an idea of what happened.

She shook her head. “No, I have to get this out.” She took another deep breath before continuing. “He kept touching me, telling me not to fight. He said it was going to happen no matter what and I should just try to enjoy it. He reached down to. . . to. . . ” She swallowed hard, tucking her legs up on the couch and wrapping her arms around them. “To undo my jeans. His grip loosened enough I managed to pull free and punched him in the face.” She took a shuddering breath and hugged her legs tighter. “He backed off and started cursing and I tried to get away. But he came after me again. I grabbed the desk lamp and smashed him on the head with it.” She looked up at him and he could see in her eyes the fear she had felt at that moment. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It's okay now,” Shawn said softly. His first instinct was to hug her again but he knew in this case that wouldn't go so well. He was left with words, which for once didn't seem like nearly enough. “You're safe. He can't get you.” _And if he comes_ _ **anywhere**_ _near you again, I'll beat the crap out of him._ He wasn't usually violent, but any guy who preyed on defenseless girls like that deserved it.

She nodded slowly. “I know but. . .” She took a deep breath, playing with a bit of string hanging off her sleeve. “I just left him there, on the floor. I didn't know if he was okay or even still alive. I didn't care; I just had to get out of there. I threw what clothes I had in a bag and left that night. I got on the first bus I could find heading out of town.” She wiped her eyes and ducked her face so it was hiding behind her knees. “I didn't know where to go. Then I remembered what my mom said about my birth father being from Santa Barbara. The bus I was on was already heading west, so I figured it was as good a destination as any. Once I got here, I didn't know what to do next. I had no idea how to find my dad.” She glanced up at him. “Luckily, I saw an article about you in the paper. I figured if anyone could find my dad, a psychic could. So here I am.” She seemed drained from her speech and rested her head against her knees, eyes closed.

Shawn wiped a hand over his face. Working with the police, he knew of some of the horrible things that happened to people in foster care. He just never had to face someone who had been through it personally. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for Nikki. He had already promised he wouldn't send Nikki back to foster care and after hearing her story there was no way he would ever let that happen.

However, she couldn't keep breaking into the Psych office at night and going who knew where during the day. She needed a place to stay. He couldn't bring her home. Juliet might be willing to look the other way for a couple days, but she was a cop first. She would feel obligated to notify someone where Nikki was and she would end up back in the system. Nikki needed a safe place she could stay until Shawn found her father.

There was only one place he could think of to bring her.

He stood up. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She stared at it for a moment before slowly reaching out to grab it and allowing Shawn to pull her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her towards the door. She may have trusted him enough to confide in him, but he could still hear a trace of fear in her voice.

“You can't keep breaking into the office,” he said. “You need somewhere to stay.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “Don't worry. He does this kind of thing all the time.” He pulled Gus's keys from his pocket, glad he had asked to borrow his friend’s car. “You'll be safe there.” She nodded cautiously, letting him guide her out of the office.

* * *

Shawn knocked on the door. “Just follow my lead,” he said. Nikki nodded, still looking apprehensive. He could hear someone stumbling around inside and some muttered cursing. The porch light clicked on and a few seconds later the door opened. “Hi Dad! Mind if we come in?” Shawn pushed Nikki past his surprised father before slipping into the house himself. He led her into the middle of the kitchen before his father had time to protest.

“Shawn? What's going on?” Henry Spencer asked, closing the door and locking it. He looked eerily similar to when Shawn was a kid, minus the hair. “It's two o'clock in the morning.” He pointed at Nikki. “Who's this?” He looked grumpy, which Shawn could understand since he had barged into the house in the middle of the night. Of course, Shawn knew his father was always grumpy when he was around.

“Dad, this is Nikki Peterson,” Shawn said. “She needs a place to stay.” He turned to Nikki. “Guest bedroom is up the stairs, second door on the left.” She looked hesitantly between him and Henry. “Go on, it's fine,” he said, shooing her towards the stairs. She gave Henry one last hesitant glance before going upstairs.

“Shawn, we've been through this,” Henry said after she left. “I'm not a hotel. You can't keep hiding people out at my house.”

“Come on, dad. It's only for a couple of days. A week tops.” Shawn leaned back against the counter, watching his father. Now that he knew the whole story, he should be able to find Nikki's father within that time-frame. He just needed a place for her to stay until then. “You said you needed more help around the house since you've been shot,” Shawn reminded him.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” Henry jerked his thumb at the stairs. “Just how old is she?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Age is all relative.” Shawn pointed at himself. “I myself feel a youthful twenty-one.” He waved at his father. “You, on the other hand, look a worn out sixty-five.”

Henry crossed his arms and gave him a look. “Shawn, answer the question.”

Even if he didn't tell his father, he would find out eventually. He still had contacts at the police station after all. “Before you freak out, just know she has nowhere else to go,” Shawn said placatingly. “I'm trying to track down her father, but until then she needs a place to stay.”

“Shawn,” Henry said warningly.

“She's fifteen,” he said reluctantly. He flinched as he saw his father's face turn completely red.

“Fifteen? She's fifteen?!,” Henry yelled. “Why the hell are you trying to hide a fifteen year old girl at my house?” He glared at Shawn suspiciously. “Is she a run away? Are you hiding her from the police?”

“It's complicated,” Shawn said hesitantly. He trusted his father but he didn’t want to get into the particulars of what happened with him. The less Henry knew, the better.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't turn her over to the police right now,” Henry said. Shawn knew this wasn't a completely empty threat. After all, the man had arrested his own son when he was a teenager.

“Like I said, she has nowhere to go.” Shawn glanced up the stairs to make sure Nikki wasn't in ear shot. He lowered his voice anyway just to be sure they weren’t overheard. “She has no other family. She would have to go into foster care and I promised I wouldn't send her back.” He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Back?” Henry asked, voice rising. “As in she was already there? She is a runaway, isn't she?” He ran his hand over his head. “I told you I wouldn't hide anyone from the police anymore.” He walked over to the wall and grabbed the cordless phone. He was already dialing when Shawn snatched it from his hand.

“Dad, please, hear me out for a minute,” Shawn said quickly, backing away with the phone. Henry was glaring at him, but made no move to take the phone back. Shawn took a deep breath before continuing. “Juliet already knows about her. She's giving me a couple days to track down her dad. So she's not really hiding from the police.” He gave his dad a small grin, which was not returned. He let the grin fade as he decided how much of the truth to tell his father. “Look, she had a problem at the last foster home she was at and I can't send her back into the system,” he said, hoping his father would let him leave it at that.

Some of the anger had faded from Henry's face. “What kind of problem?”

“A problem involving a boy at the home,” Shawn said, looking away. He couldn't tell his father what had happened; he had made a promise to Nikki. “Please don't ask for any more details.” He stared intently at the cabinets, waiting for an answer.

Something of the seriousness of the situation must have been in his tone. He heard his father sigh. “All right, she can stay,” he said. Shawn risked a look at him. The anger had faded completely away, replaced by concern. “But only temporarily.” The words lacked the force they normally would have had, showing Henry wasn’t as hard-hearted as he acted.

Shawn smiled in relief. “Thanks, dad,” he said. There were several seconds of awkward silence, as neither man was good at dealing with emotional issues. “I'm just going to run up and let Nikki know what's going on,” he said, desperate to get out of the kitchen. He turned and headed up the stairs before his dad could say anything.

Entering the guest room, he saw Nikki sitting nervously on the bed. “We're good,” he said. “I convinced him to let you stay.” He sat down on the bed next to Nikki. “He's not the easiest person to live with, being a former cop and constantly butting into your personal life and nothing you do ever being good enough for him.” He smiled at Nikki. “But it's better than hiding in the Psych office.”

He was surprised when Nikki threw her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Shawn returned the hug awkwardly. He wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy, but there was a part of him, a part that felt protective of this girl he had only met three days ago, that was touched by the hug.

She released him and pulled away, blushing. “So, it's getting late. I'm feeling kind of tired.” She stretched and yawned to emphasize this fact.

He stood up. “You're right, I should go. I'll stop by tomorrow to let you know how the search is going.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at the young woman. “I will find your father. You can count on me,” he said, meeting Nikki's gaze.

“I know,” she said simply, trust in her eyes.

He nodded and left the room. He went down the stairs and found his father still in the kitchen. “Gotta go. Thanks again pop,” he said, bee lining through the kitchen.

“I hope you know what you're doing Shawn,” Henry called after him.

“Of course,” he yelled back, pulling open the door. He gave his father a grin and left, shutting the door behind him. “At least, I hope I do,” he said quietly to himself, grin fading from his face. Nikki was counting on him. He wouldn't, couldn’t, let her down.


	9. Caffeine, Confessions, and a Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this, but for those who are I'm sorry I'm late posting this. I was pretty busy the last few days. I've been feeling a bit like Shawn does in this chapter.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it.

_Friday_

  
  


“Shawn. . . Shawn. . . Earth to Shawn.”

Something came flying through the air and bounced off Shawn's forehead. Glancing down, he saw a balled up piece of paper sitting on his keyboard. He raised his head off his hand and looked away from his computer screen to Gus. “Dude, what was that for?” He blinked. “When did you get here?” he asked in confusion.

“Five minutes ago,” Gus said. “You were kind of zoned out staring at your computer screen. I couldn't get your attention.” He stepped closer and frowned at Shawn. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” Shawn said sarcastically, rubbing his no doubt bloodshot eyes.

He hadn't gotten home until just before 3 am. He had tossed and turned for a couple hours before finally falling asleep, only to have Juliet wake him up before leaving for work to find out what had happened with Nikki. After that he had given up on sleep and come to the office. He could only imagine how bad he looked. He had made it a point to avoid all reflective surfaces that morning for just that reason.

“Didn't get enough sleep last night,” he told Gus after a jaw-cracking yawn. “I'm gonna make some more coffee. Want any?” He struggled out of his chair and dragged himself towards the coffee maker.

“I'm good,” Gus said. Shawn pulled out the bag of beans and plugged in the grinder. “What I wanted to ask you – ” Gus was cut off as Shawn started the grinder. He waited for Shawn to finish before trying again. “I wanted to know – ”

Shawn started the grinder again. Gus waited, less patiently this time. Shawn turned the grinder off.

“I wanted – ”

Shawn turned the grinder on again.

“Shawn!” Gus yelled over the noise. “Do you know how bad that is for the motor?”

Shawn turned off the grinder with a grin. It was so much fun teasing Gus. “Sorry, buddy, but I like my coffee extra ground.”

“I’ll show you extra ground.” Gus glared at him. “Don’t let this turn into what happened to the blender.”

“That was a completely different situation,” Shawn protested. “How was I supposed to know you shouldn’t open the lid while the blender was still running?”

“It’s common sense,” Gus said. “And you burned out the motor because you left it running while you were cleaning up, so it _is_ a similar situation.”

“Agree to disagree.” Shawn measured out the grounds, filled the reservoir and started the coffee maker. Soon the sounds and smells of freshly brewing coffee filled the office. He leaned back against the counter, facing Gus. “Now, what were you trying to say before you falsely accused me of abusing kitchen appliances?”

Gus scowled at him but didn’t let himself be distracted again. “I was asking how things went with Nikki.” Shawn had filled him in about the background check when he had borrowed the Blueberry the night before.

“Better than I thought it would,” Shawn said. “I was able to convince my dad to let her stay for a while.” The coffee maker beeped, signaling it had finished brewing. “Finally.” He poured himself a cup and held it up to his nose, inhaling the bitter fragrance of this life-saving nectar from the gods. If only it tasted better; too bad nobody had figured out how to breed a coffee plant with a pineapple.

“How did you manage that?” Gus asked. When he didn't answer right away, Gus's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Please tell me you didn't agree to help him around the house again. I got stuck doing most of the work last time.”

Shawn went back to his desk, sipping his coffee. He hoped drinking it black would help wake him up faster though the bitter taste almost made him gag. “No chores, Gus. Don't worry.” He picked up his phone and checked it before putting it back on his desk.

“Then how did you convince your dad to let Nikki stay?” Gus asked.

“I have my ways,” he said mysteriously. Gus gave him a look. Shawn rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I explained what's going on with her and he agreed to let her stay. So just drop it, all right?”

Gus looked surprised by his sharp tone. “OK,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I'm just glad she has a place to stay.”

Shawn sighed. He felt guilty for snapping at his friend but he really didn’t want to go over the details with him. Gus meant well, but he wouldn't be able to treat Nikki the same if he knew the truth. She didn't deserve to have to face that every day. He checked his phone again, rubbing at a sharp pain over his left eye. “Me too,” he said. “Now I can buy Red Vines again.” He put the phone down and grabbed his coffee. It was almost cool enough to chug. As he impatiently sipped it, he noticed Gus watching him. “What?”

“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Gus asked. “The last time you checked it that often you were fighting with Juliet.” He looked suspiciously at Shawn. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he protested. “Jules and I are fine.” He put his coffee down and gave Gus his full attention. “I spent the morning talking to the nurse who took care of Nikki's mom in Denver. She had some very interesting things to say.” He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest. “Apparently, Sarah Peterson hired a private investigator shortly before her death.”

“A PI?” Gus asked. “Why would a dying woman hire a PI?”

Shawn threw back his head and put the back of his hand to his forehead, like an old southern woman feeling faint. “To find the father of a daughter about to be left all alone in the world,” he said, adopting a southern accent.

“Your accent is terrible,” Gus commented.

Shawn sighed heavily as he sat up. “You just don’t appreciate the lengths I go to for artistic flair.”

Gus crossed his arms. “I would if it wasn’t just you messing around. Are you going to tell me what you found out?”

“You ruin all my fun,” Shawn complained. He grabbed his mug, deciding his coffee was cool enough. He drained what was left in one long gulp and put the empty mug back on his desk with a resounding thunk. “One of her nurses arranged everything. The one I spoke to only knew a few details but was able to give me his number. He wasn’t in his office so I left a message. I'm waiting for him to call me back.” He checked his phone again just in case he had missed the call while he was talking.

“How much coffee did you have this morning?” Gus asked, staring at Shawn's left hand.

Shawn looked down and noticed his hand was shaking. “Four cups,” he said. “No, wait, five cups. I stopped at Starbucks on the way in.” He moved his hand so it was out of Gus' view.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Gus asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Um, what time is it?”

Gus checked his watch. “10:30.”

Shawn thought for a moment. “Then, around seven.” Gus relaxed slightly. “Last night.”

Gus sighed and grabbed his keys. “Come on, let's go.”

“Go where?” Shawn asked in confusion.

“You need to eat something before you go into shock.” Gus said. “Remember what happened the last time you drank that much coffee without eating?”

Shawn winced. That had been while his dad was in the hospital after getting shot. He had passed out next to his dad's hospital bed and woken up in one of his own. It had taken two hours to get the doctor to release him. “Fine, let's eat,” he said, standing up. The room spun slightly for a minute, but he was able to keep his balance. He hoped Gus hadn't noticed. “Then we should stop by the station. Jules said they should have a positive ID on the body by this morning.” He made his way carefully to the door of the office.

Gus reached it first and held it open for him. Apparently his friend was entering full on mother hen mode. “I worry about you sometimes,” he said, following Shawn out the door. “I know you want to solve these cases, but your own well-being comes first.” He went ahead and opened the car door for Shawn.

“Why, thank you Jeeves,” Shawn said as he got in the car, doing his best to hide his annoyance. Gus meant well but he wasn’t an invalid. He was just a little light headed. He buckled up as Gus went around to his own side of the car. “I didn't do it intentionally. I promised Nikki I would find her father. I can't let her down.” He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes against the bright morning light.

“You won’t be able to help her if you pass out,” Gus said.

Shawn sighed. “You’re right.” He squinted over at his friend. “Waffles?”

“You know that’s right.”

Shawn relaxed back against the seat as his friend drove them to the nearest diner to get some much needed sustenance. He hoped he would be able to get pineapple on his waffles.

* * *

The food seemed to have kick-started his system and Shawn was finally feeling the energizing effects of all that caffeine. He had a definite spring in his step as he entered the police station, Gus trailing along behind him. He knew he would crash hard later so he needed to make the most of his wakefulness now.

He spotted Juliet at her desk, her back to them. She seemed completely absorbed with the file in front of her. The opportunity was too tempting; he motioned Gus to stay back as he snuck up silently behind her. Once he was in position, he spoke quietly into her ear. “Hi Jules.”

She shrieked and spun around. “Shawn!” she yelled as he burst into laughter. “Don't do that!” She glared at him, her face flush.

"You should have seen your face,” Shawn said with a grin. Her expression of wide-eyed shock was priceless. "Dude, did you see her face?" he asked Gus as his friend came up next to him. Gus elbowed him hard in the side. "What?"

"Shawn, I swear - " Juliet said, voice rising in anger. A snort behind them made her pause. She glanced around and her face got even redder. Her scream had attracted the attention of half the station. Shawn could see a few people hiding grins as they surreptitiously watched the drama unfold. "Shawn," she said, lowering her voice. "Can't you sometimes act professional? Especially here?"

"Oh Jules, where's the fun in that?" he asked. She turned back around to face her desk, ignoring him. He glanced at Gus who shook his head, giving him a look that clearly said this was his mess to clean up. Shawn walked slowly around the desk to face Juliet. She didn’t look up at him but he could tell by her stiff shoulders and tightly pressed lips she was pissed. He sighed, knowing he had screwed up. “I'm sorry I made you scream in front of the whole police station, even if it was hilarious.”

She looked up at him warily and he made sure to have his 'serious' face on. He knew she wished he would take things a little more seriously, especially at work. He also knew how she hated to be embarrassed in front of her coworkers. He had crossed a line and she was right to be angry. “How about next time I make Lassiter scream like a little girl in front of everyone?” he asked, trying to coax a smile from her.

“That would immature,” she said primly. Even so, he could see her trying to hide a smile at the thought.

“Are we okay?” he asked quietly.

She sighed and gave him a small smile. “Just don't do that again.”

“Promise,” he said with an answering grin. He clapped his hands together loudly. “So, what can you tell us about the body from the park?” Gus came around the desk to hear what Juliet had to say.

“Before I tell you anything, you need to talk to the Chief,” she said, her tone all business. “She said she needed to talk to you as soon as you came in.”

“How about you tell me about the body first, then I go see the Chief?” he bargained. Getting called in to see the Chief was like getting called to the principal's office in high school. He had enough experience in both situations to know to delay as long as possible.

“She was very clear she wanted to see you right away,” she insisted, glancing past him to something over his shoulder

“Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her,” he said conspiratorially. Her eyes flashed to his for a second, then back behind him with a warning tilt of her head. “Of course, I would never disobey her wishes like that,” he said hurriedly, realizing who she was looking at. “I'm going to go see her right now.” He turned around and acted surprised. “Why Chief, I didn't know you were standing there. I was just coming to find you.” He saw Gus standing off to the side shake his head.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick said with a smile. Shawn was instantly on guard. That smile always meant trouble. “If you're done chatting, I'd like to see you in my office.”

“Why certainly.” Shawn headed in that direction with Gus following him.

“Not you, Mr. Guster,” Vick said, putting out a hand to stop him. “I'd like to speak to Spencer privately.” Giving Shawn a look, she turned and walked towards her office.

Gus looked worriedly at Shawn, who rolled his eyes. “The Chief probably just wants to congratulate me on my work recently,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “If she did it in public, everyone else would get jealous.”

Gus snorted. “Yeah right.” But Shawn's relaxed attitude did seem to lessen his own worry.

“Mr. Spencer,” Vick called from the office doorway.

Shawn saluted and headed into her office. Vick closed the doors behind him before sitting down at her desk.

“Have a seat,” she said, indicating the chairs in front of her. He sat and did his best to appear relaxed and unconcerned. “We need to have a talk.”

“We certainly do,” he said, cutting her off. “The vending machine in the break room refuses to give me my Snickers bars. This is the third time I have paid for my delicious peanutty goodness and been left nutless. I demand satisfaction!” He thumped his fist on the armrest of the chair for emphasis.

Vick didn't comment on his antics. Never a good sign. “I have here a report from one of the officers at Howell Park yesterday,” she said, tapping a file on her desk. “Apparently there was a disturbance at the crime scene involving you and a teenage girl. Care to explain?”

“That was my bad Chief,” he said, relaxing slightly. He had already established a cover story for Nikki; now he just had to convince the Chief of it. “My new apprentice is still unclear on crime scene protocol. She was trying to follow the astral trail of the killer and we got separated.”

“Your apprentice?” Vick asked skeptically.

“Yes Chief,” he said. “I found myself with the yearning to pass on my years of psychic knowledge to the next generation. The next day, my apprentice arrived. She said she felt drawn to my office, a clear sign of psychic compatibility.” He saw the Chief about to interrupt and quickly pressed on. He couldn’t get yelled at if Vick didn’t have chance to say anything. Besides, he was really getting on a roll now. “She will be shadowing me, learning how a true psychic solves crimes. She needs to see what I see, hear what I hear, feel what I feel, taste what - “

“Enough Mr. Spencer,” Vick said, cutting him short. “I just have one question for you.”

“If it's who keeps leaving half eaten donuts in the break room, I think its Rodriguez. He always seemed like the type to leave things unfinished. That's a sign of a bad work ethic. You should talk to him about it.” He knew he was babbling, but the expression on the Chief's face was starting to make him nervous. “And who leaves the half eaten donut just sitting there? Do they honestly belief someone else is going to finish it? I know there's nothing I like better than someone else's slobbered on snacks...” He tapered off into silence. The Chief's stare was really starting to unnerve him, and he found himself at a loss of what to say.

“What's her name?”

Shawn froze. She had asked the question quietly, almost curiously. It was a tone he had heard Lassiter and Juliet use in interrogations, when they already knew the truth and just wanted to watch the perp sweat. Until he knew exactly where the Chief was going with this, the less said the better. “Why do you ask?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“A girl trespasses at a crime scene full of cops, has a ‘psychic vision,’ and leaves without anyone learning her name. This strikes me as a little odd. One might think someone was hiding her identity deliberately.” The look she gave him told him that is exactly what she thought.

“You know how the press are at the crime scenes. She's still new at this. I didn't want them to know her name until she's ready.” Shawn gave himself a mental pat on the back. That reason sounded legitimate and not made up seconds ago.

“There's no press here now,” Vick pointed out. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for an answer.

“Psychic-apprentice confidentiality.” That one definitely sounded made up, but he was running out of excuses. His brain was still sluggish despite the obscene amount of caffeine in his system, leaving him ill-equipped to parry the Chief’s probing.

Vick studied him for a moment, then looked away with a sigh. He thought for a moment he had won, until she reached into her desk and removed a file. “In our system, a person becomes flagged if finding them is of the utmost importance. These people are usually high-profile criminals or missing persons.” She placed the file down carefully, then looked up at him. “Especially missing children.”

_Crap._ He had a pretty good idea where the Chief was going with this.

She opened the file. “If an officer runs a name that is flagged, the Chief of Police is automatically notified. Detective O'Hara ran such a name yesterday.” She removed a single sheet and handed it to him. “See if she looks familiar.”

He took it, already knowing what it would show. Across the top of the page were the words 'Missing Child.' Underneath was a picture of Nikki and the information Juliet had shared with him yesterday. He looked up at the Chief. “Chief – ”

“O'Hara managed to convince me to speak to you before reporting this to the Denver PD,” she said, cutting him off. She fixed him with a stern look. “Why were you at a crime scene with a missing child?”

“Look, I didn't know she was missing at the time,” he said defensively. “I didn't even bring her to the crime scene. She snuck in on her own. You should probably talk to your boys about that. I would hate to think any member of the SBPD is slacking on the job.” He cut himself off before he could say anymore. Making the Chief mad wouldn't help. He was off his game today and if he wasn't careful, it would cost both him and Nikki. He couldn't afford to give away any more information.

“Mr. Spencer, this is no time for games,” Vick said, her eyes narrowing. “Now answer the question.”

“I did,” he said stubbornly.

“Then why did she follow you to the crime scene?” she said with exasperation.

“I'm working on a case for her.”

She stood up and leaned over the desk to glare at him. “What case?”

Shawn crossed his arms. “I really can't say.”

“This is serious,” she said sharply. “Harboring a runaway is a criminal offense.”

“Oh, really? I never would have thought that,” he said sarcastically, his rising anger and annoyance for being forced into this situation giving an added sharpness to his words.

“Spencer, give me one good reason why I shouldn't arrest you and bring her in myself,” she snapped angrily.

“Because I promised I would protect her!”

They stared at each other, breathing hard. Vick seemed surprised by his outburst. He couldn't blame her; he was surprised himself. He normally had much better control over his temper. He looked away first, tiredly running a hand over his face. He slumped back down in his chair, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the floor as he gather his thoughts. He heard Vick sit back down at her desk.

When he felt ready, he looked up and started to speak. “She came by the office on Monday to hire us to find her biological father. Her mom wouldn't tell her who he is, so she hoped I could divine his identity.” He shrugged. “We didn’t have any other cases, and I was tired of constantly beating Gus at video games. Besides, she reminded me of myself as a teenager. I know I didn't get along with my parents.” He shook his head. “I didn't know how much she was like me until yesterday.”

“When O'Hara did the background check,” Vick guessed. He nodded. She folded her hands in front of her, looking at him intently. “Why didn't you want her to report Nikki?”

He leaned back with a sigh. “Nikki’s a smart kid. For her to have run over 1,000 miles to a city she doesn’t know on the off chance she could find her father, I figured she had to have a pretty good reason. Someone more serious than getting grounded or having an argument with her parents and running away out of spite.” He looked down, hesitant to go on. He had promised to keep what Nikki said to himself. He knew the Chief would need to know eventually but not until Nikki was ready to face what happened.

“Did she give you a reason?” Vick asked quietly after he was silent for a couple minutes.

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “And I promised her I wouldn't send her back to foster care.” He took a deep breath before meeting the Chief's gaze. “I just need a little more time to find her father.”

Vick must have read something in his face, because she didn't ask any more questions. “I can give you until Monday,” she said briskly. “Then I'll have to report her to the Denver PD.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, Chief,” he said gratefully. Given the distance to Denver, that would give him about a week before someone showed up in person. If the PI knew the name of her father, he hopefully could have things wrapped up by then.

“You’re welcome. Just don’t let me hear about your ‘apprentice’ wandering around any more crime scenes.” She gave him a stern look before gathering up the files on her desk. “Now get back to work; there is a killer that still needs to be caught.”

Shawn knew a dismissal when he heard one. “I’m on it,” he said and headed for the door.

“And Spencer?”

He turned. The expression on Vick's face had softened. “I know how important it is to find him, but try to get some rest. You look like hell.”

He gave a weary salute. “I’ll do my best.”

Heading back to Juliet's desk, he saw his girlfriend and Gus conversing quietly. They stopped talking the moment he joined them. Judging by the guilty expressions on their faces, _he_ had been the topic of conversation. “Don't let me interrupt,” he said airily. “I'm sure you're saying all sorts of wonderful things about me.” He grabbed Lassiter’s empty desk chair and wheeled it over. Sitting down, he leaned back comfortably with a sigh. “Please, continue,” he said when Gus and Juliet just looked at him silently.

“What did the Chief want to talk about?” Gus asked.

Shawn glanced at Juliet. “I’m sorry,” she said guiltily. “I forgot she would get notified I looked her up.”

“It’s not your fault,” Shawn said, giving her a reassuring smile. “And thank you for convincing her to talk to me first.” He turned to Gus. “Vick had a few questions about my new apprentice.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening and gestured him to lean closer. “She also asked if there was any connection to a missing girl from Denver,” he added quietly.

“Shawn,” Gus said, worried.

He waved away Gus's concern. “Don't worry, I bought us some time. She agreed not to contact anyone from Denver until Monday. Plenty of time to find her dad.” He covered a yawn as he pulled out his phone. No new messages. “So what did you find out about the body?” Putting it away, he glanced up to see Juliet looking at him with concern. Gus too. “What?”

Juliet shared a look with Gus before speaking. “We're worried you're pushing yourself too hard with these cases. I know you haven't been sleeping well, and Gus told me about this morning.”

He glared at Gus. “Traitor,” he muttered. Gus shrugged, not looking the least bit guilty. He knew his friend meant well but Shawn still silently vowed to put garlic in his friend’s breath freshener before his next date with Rachel.

“Jules, honey, I'm fine,” he said, turning back to his girlfriend. “I’m just a little tired.” She raised an eyebrow and nodded at his left hand. Looking down, he saw it was trembling again. He covered it with his other hand and grinned sheepishly at her. “I guess I'm jittery from all that coffee.”

“Shawn – ”

“Jules, I can handle it,” he said, cutting her off. “There's nothing to worry about.” Gus tapped him on the shoulder, but he ignored him, focusing his attention on Juliet. “I'm fine,” he repeated, holding her gaze steadily. He could see the moment when she gave in and smiled brightly at her. “Besides, what would the department do without its Head Psychic Detective?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and spreading his arms.

She rolled her eyes. “We solve plenty of cases without you, Shawn.”

“But you solve even more with me,” he pointed out with a grin.

“Um, Shawn?” Gus said.

“In a minute.” Shawn leaned in closer to Juliet’s desk. “Now, how about the prettiest detective in the department tells us about the latest victim?”

“Spencer!”

Shawn barely managed to keep from jumping. Leaning as far back in the chair as he could, he looked up into the frowning visage of one Carlton Lassiter. “Hey Lassie!” he said brightly. He tilted his head. “You know from here, it looks like you’re smiling.”

“Get out of my chair,” Lassiter said slowly.

He spun the chair around to face Lassiter. “But it's so comfy.” He slouched down into the chair and crossed his arms, unwillingly to give it up.

“Spencer,” Lassiter growled.

“Is this because I called Jules the prettiest detective here?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying himself. It was so much fun to mess with Lassiter. “Don't worry. I think you're pretty too.” He batted his eyelashes at the older detective.

Lassiter put his hands on the armrests of the chair and leaned right into Shawn’s face. “Get. Up.”

He smirked at Lassiter. “Make me,” he dared.

“Shawn,” Juliet said warningly.

Before Shawn could react, Lassiter had spun the chair around and dumped him on the floor. He watched as Lassiter calmly wheeled the chair away. “That was uncool,” he yelled after him. Lassiter just smirked as he sat at his desk.

Gus reached down and gave him a hand up off the floor. He brushed himself off while Juliet shook her head. “Can't you two ever get along?” she asked.

Shawn gave her a crooked grin. “Like I've said before, where's the fun in that?” He came around and perched on the edge of her desk. “Now; the body.”

Juliet sighed and handed him a file. “You were right. We were able to positively ID the body as Samuel Cooper. Woody put time of death between 11 pm and 1 am Wednesday night. Cause of death was blood loss from the gash on the neck. Judging by the depth and angle of the cut, we know the killer is left handed and was standing behind the victim when he slashed his throat.”

“Smart,” Shawn said, looking through the file. “Cooper wouldn't have seen him coming and the killer would have avoided most of the blood splatter.” There was the usual background info on the victim. No prior arrests or charges. No known association with any criminal elements. The roommate described him as a pretty easy going guy. There was nothing to explain why someone would want to kill him.

“Exactly,” Juliet agreed. “The acid used to burn his face and hands was a concentrated form of hydrofluoric acid. At that concentration, the most likely place it could have come from is - “

“A chemistry lab,” he said, glancing at Gus. His hunch that the two bodies were related was right.

“We had CSU reexamine both labs,” she continued. “They found traces of blood in Pratt's. We're waiting on lab results but we're pretty sure it's Cooper's. They also found a jug of hydrofluoric acid that looked like it had been recently used. They were able to lift a partial print. Nothing matched in the system, so we're checking everyone who had access to the lab storeroom.”

Shawn closed the file and tapped it against his leg. Something about the case didn't add up. Why Pratt's lab? “What did Pratt have to say about all this?”

“That man is an insufferable jackass,” Juliet said with vehemence. “His lawyer managed to convince a judge that the fingerprints on the murder weapon were not enough evidence to charge him. Since his release, he has been threatening to sue the department for false arrest and defamation.” She snorted. “I wish he was guilty just so I could have the satisfaction of throwing that smug bastard in jail for the rest of his life.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the outburst. He glanced at Gus and saw an equally surprised expression on his face. He rarely saw her so worked up over a suspect. Her face was flushed and her jaw was clenched hard enough he could almost hear her teeth grinding together. This guy sure had a way with people. “Jules, honey, calm down. Take deep breaths.” He took an exaggerated breath, motioning for her to copy him. After several such breaths, she seemed to calm down. “Don't let this guy get to you.”

“I know,” she snapped. She took another deep breath and smiled apologetically at him. “He just as a way of knowing exactly what to say to get a reaction out of you.”

He nodded. He had noticed the same thing. “I sense he will get his comeuppance someday,” he said mysteriously.

She looked at him hopefully. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He would make sure of that. He was rewarded by her happy, if slightly vindictive smile. He frowned as something she had said earlier occurred to him. “What about the hair?”

“What hair?” she asked, puzzled.

“The one found at the crime scene,” he said. “You mentioned the lawyer got the fingerprints called into question, but not the hair.”

She thought for a moment. “Right, that hair,” she said suddenly. “I almost forgot about it, since the fingerprints were enough evidence to hold him.” She flipped through a file until she found the right page. “Turns out the hair wasn't even human. The lab matched it to _Felis catus_.”

“A house cat?” Gus asked. “What would cat hair be doing in a chemistry lab?” He looked over at Shawn as the psychic suddenly stood up. “Shawn?”

Something had clicked in Shawn's mind. The missing piece he had been looking for, or at least part of it. There had been a guy at the crime scene when he and Gus had been talking with Cooper. A guy with cat scratches on his hand. “Have you been able to track down everyone who had access to the supply room?” he asked Juliet urgently.

“Almost everyone,” she said, surprised at his tone. “We're still trying to contact one or two.”

He put his hand to his head. “I'm sensing one of those is our killer. Someone with the last name Newton.” He saw Gus's eyes widen, recognizing the name.

She pulled out the list of suspects. “There is a Timothy Newton, one of Sanders' post doc students. We haven't been able to reach him.”

“That's it! That's our killer,” he said excitedly. He loved the feeling when the pieces started coming together. He still needed to figure out why Newton did it, but he was one step closer to solving the case.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“He's right.” Lassiter was watching them from his desk and had obviously heard what their discussion. “Sanders received a number of threatening emails from Newton in the week leading up to his death.” He raised an eyebrow at their shocked expressions. “What?”

Shawn cleared his throat. “Did you just agree with me? This is a first.” He turned away to face the station. “Carlton Lassiter, _the_ Carlton Lassiter, just agreed with Shawn Spencer,” he announced to everyone.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “O'Hara, do you have an address for Newton?” he asked, standing up.

“Right here.” she said, brandishing a sheet of paper.

“Let's go.” Lassiter grabbed his jacket and headed out for the door. Juliet got up and quickly followed him. “You coming Spencer?” he called back over his shoulder.

Shawn stared after Lassiter. “It's a sign of the Apocalypse. It has to be.”

“Maybe he's just starting to tolerate you,” Gus said. “You have been working together for seven years. He was bound to warm up eventually.”

“Spencer!”

“I'm still betting pod people,” Shawn said. “Or maybe he's a robot sent from the future to try and stop me from solving cases.” He smirked. “Though if that is the case, he is doing a horrible job of it.”

“Lassiter is not Terminator and if we don't go now they'll leave without us,” Gus said.

“Agree to disagree,” Shawn said but followed his friend out after the two detectives.


	10. Curiosity and a Cat

Lassiter's truce was short lived. The detective barely gave Shawn and Gus time to get in their own car before tearing out of the station parking lot at speeds only legal for officers in pursuit. He seemed determined to lose them as they followed him to Newton’s house, cutting quickly down side streets and even circling back at one point.

As a result, they arrived at Newton's place a few minutes after Lassiter and Juliet. The detectives were already out of the car and halfway up the path to the house. Lassiter turned as Shawn and Gus headed towards them.

“About time Spencer. Did you get lost?” Lassiter asked with a smirk. Juliet smacked him in the arm and frowned at him. She obviously didn’t approve of Lassiter’s attempts to lose them.

“The spirits seemed a little confused as to the exact location of the house,” Shawn said. “Luckily, I was able to straighten them out.” And luckily he had seen the sheet of paper with Newton's address on it at the station, or they never would have found the place.

“Well, now that you and your 'spirits' are here, you get a chance to watch a real detective at work,” Lassiter boasted.

“Great. While Juliet is working, what will you be doing?” Shawn grinned as Lassiter's ears turned red and the detective’s hands clenched into fists.

“Guys! Focus!” Juliet snapped, looking crossly at both Shawn and Lassiter. “We're here to find a possible murderer.”

“Just stay out of my way,” Lassiter said, glaring at Shawn. He turned and headed towards the house. Juliet shook her head as she hurried to catch up with him. Shawn and Gus followed along at a more leisurely pace, giving Shawn time to examine the exterior.

It was a blue, two-story building with a porch in front. It seemed in good repair but Shawn noticed the paint starting to peel. The yard was small but well kept. No weeds, and the grass looked like it had been cut recently. A path of paving stones led from the street to the porch. As he climbed the steps, he noticed faint muddy footprints leading up to the front door. There was a small, muddy spot near the door, as if something had been left sitting there rather than bringing it inside.

“SBPD! Open up!” Lassiter called, knocking on the door. It moved inward slightly when he touched it. Motioning Juliet back, he pulled out his sidearm. Juliet did the same. “You two stay out here,” he said to Shawn and Gus. When Juliet was in position next to the door, he pushed the door open. Gun outstretched, he checked all visible areas before cautiously entering. Juliet pointed at Shawn and pointed to the porch, clearly reiterating that he stay put, before following Lassiter inside the house.

Shawn waited three seconds before trying to follow Juliet inside. Gus grabbed his arm to stop him. “Dude, we were told to stay here,” he whispered as he pulled Shawn away from the door.

“When have I ever listened to what someone tells me to do?” Shawn asked quietly. He slipped out of Gus's grip and headed for the door again.

Gus jumped in front of him. “You promised Juliet you would stop putting yourself in dangerous situations.”

“There are two cops in there with guns. I'll be fine.”

Gus crossed his arms. “How many times have you been threatened in just that situation?”

“Dude, come on,” Shawn whined. Gus gave him a ‘this is for your own good’ look and continued to stand in his way. Glancing around, Shawn suddenly pointed down the street. “Look, a Labradoodle!” When Gus turned to look, Shawn attempted to get past him.

Shawn guessed he had used the Labradoodle ploy one too many times. Gus turned back quicker than expected and managed to grab Shawn before he could get through the door. Shawn went boneless, but all that accomplished was Gus dropping him in a painful heap on the porch. His friend looked down at him groaning on the floor. “I’m not letting you through.”

Shawn slowly and stiffly got to his feet. “Fine, we’ll wait.” He limped over to the porch railing and leaned against it, glaring at Gus. His ‘best friend’ stayed in front of the door, watching Shawn warily in case he tried to get past him again.

After several extremely tense minutes, Juliet appeared in the doorway. “It's clear. You guys can come in.”

Shawn started towards the door only to have Gus jump in front of him again. “Dude, we're allowed in now,” he snapped in annoyance.

“I know,” Gus said calmly. “But remember the rules. I do not enter a place first or last.” He turned to Juliet. “After you.”

Shooting Shawn a confused look, Juliet led Gus into the house. Shawn brought up the rear, wondering why he let Gus make those stupid rules in the first place.

Once they were all inside the house, Juliet turned to them. “You can look, but don't touch anything.” She stared particularly hard at Shawn when she said this.

“Come on,” Shawn complained. “When have I ever tampered with a crime scene? Intentionally?” he added quickly as she opened her mouth to reply.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure he behaves,” Gus said.

“Oh, you will, will you?” Shawn asked, crossing his arms as he rounded on Gus. “Who died and made you king of the crime scene?”

“One of us has to be the responsible one and that is clearly not you,” Gus said.

Fed up with Gus’ condescending attitude, Shawn frowned and said, "I can't do this with you right now," before he gave his friend a shove.

Gus looked shocked for a moment, then his look changed to one clearly saying ‘it’s on,’ as he shoved Shawn back. Shawn returned the shove with enough force to knock Gus back a step. The two went back and forth a few times until Gus gave a particularly hard shove that knocked Shawn back into the wall. He hit with enough force it caused a nearby picture to fall to the floor.

“Shawn, what did we just talk about?” Juliet asked in exasperation.

“He started it,” Shawn muttered, rubbing the sore spot at the back of his head from hitting the wall.

“I did not, you started,” Gus argued.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not times infinity!”

“Did not times infinity plus one!”

“Boys! Seriously?” Juliet crossed her arms and glared at both of them. “You are two grown men. Act like it.”

“O'Hara!” Lassiter yelled from upstairs. “Get up here!”

“Coming!” she called back. She looked at the two of them and sighed, shaking her head. Shawn looked away, hating the disappointed look on her face. “Just try to behave yourselves,” she said before heading up the stairs.

Shawn waited until she was out of sight before glaring at Gus. “Great, now I’m in trouble with Jules. Thanks a lot, man.”

“Don't blame me, Shawn,” Gus snapped back. “You started the whole thing. You could have stopped at any time. It's not my fault you are incapable of acting like an adult.”

He thought it was unfair for Gus to say that, considering Gus had been acting just as childish as he was, but unfortunately his friend had a point. He knew Juliet wished he would act more mature and so far he had been failing miserably. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked sheepishly at Gus. “You're right. Sorry dude.” He held out his fist.

Gus bumped it with his own. “Apology accepted.”

With the air clear between the two of them, Shawn took a good look at his surroundings. The hallway they were standing in ran all the way to the back of the house. Stairs in front of him led up to the second floor. A doorway to his left opened into a living room with worn but well-cared for furniture and a large flat screen television. To his right another doorway led to a dining room. The furniture was in better condition but judging from the faint traces of dust he concluded that was because this room was rarely used.

Shawn’s first overall impression was this place was much cleaner than he would expect for a bachelor living on his own. Shoes were lined up neatly by the door instead of laying wherever they had been kicked off. A gap in the line showed one pair was missing. The mail was sorted into three piles instead of carelessly thrown on the small table in the hallway. The shortest pile contained a single letter with a return address from out of state from a James Newton. Keys were hung on labeled pegs above the table. The pegs under ‘house’ and ‘car’ were empty.

From what he could see of the other rooms, they were just as organized. The only thing out of place was the picture that had fallen off the wall.

“This guy sure was a neat freak.” Gus entered the room on the left and looked around. “It almost looks like a showroom. You'd think the house was empty if it wasn't for all the books and DVDs on the shelves.”

“Anything good?” Shawn asked as he crouched down to pick up the picture on the floor. It showed two similar looking boys, one he recognized as Newton, standing in front of a cabin in the woods. There was a lake in the background that looked vaguely familiar.

He started to stand up when he noticed several red splotches on the otherwise immaculate wood floor. Glancing around, he saw more splotches in a path coming from the front door and continuing past him down the hallway to a door on the far right.

“Nothing we haven't already seen,” Gus said, coming back into the hallway. He looked down at Shawn. “Did you find something?”

He handed Gus the picture. “Newton and what is probably his brother at a cabin in the woods. Might be a family place. It's a good place to start looking for him; it’s probably pretty isolated.” He pointed to the splotches on the floor. “There's also what appears to be a trail of blood going down the hallway.”

“Blood?” Gus asked, putting the picture down on the table. “Are you sure?”

“Let's find out.” Shawn followed the blood trail to its end and opened the door. He found himself in a small bathroom and immediately started snooping around for clues.

Gus watched from the doorway. “What are you looking for?”

“This.” Shawn picked up a trash can and held it out to Gus. Inside was a lab coat, slightly damp, with blood on the left sleeve. “What would you bet this is Cooper's blood?”

Gus waved the can away, looking slightly green. “OK, so we have established Newton is the killer.” Shawn put the trash can back where he found it and joined Gus in the hallway. “The question is why.”

“Cooper is obvious,” Shawn said as he headed back down the hallway. “Cooper found out that he killed Sanders and had to be silenced. Cooper probably confronted him in the lab and he had to act quick. That's why this murder is messier than the first one.” He reached the stairs and started up them.

“Then why kill Sanders?” Gus asked.

“That's what we need to find out.” Shawn paused at the top of the stairs. He could hear voices coming from the first room on the left. “Let's see what Lassie and Jules found first.”

Lassiter and Juliet were conversely quietly in the corner when they entered. After a quick glance, Shawn already knew several things. One; Newton had a weird obsession with the Incredible Hulk. The bedspread, posters, even action figures, showed the green hero. Two; Gus was becoming way too interested in said superhero memorabilia. And three – “I'm sensing Newton left in a hurry.”

Lassiter snorted. “Tell me something I don't know.” While the rest of the house was immaculate, this room was not. Drawers were left half-open and clothing was strewn about on the bed. The closet was open and looked like it had been dug through, then had its contents thrown haphazardly back inside. A bare spot in front of a monitor with loose wires showed where a laptop once was. In short, even the most rookie cop could tell someone packed in a hurry. Still. . .

“Polar bears are left handed.”

Lassiter looked at him in confusion. “What does that have to do with the case?”

“You asked me to tell you something you don't know,” Shawn reminded him. “Did you know polar bears are left handed?”

Lassiter frowned. “No.”

“Then there you go.” Shawn paused. “Although the killer was also left handed, so I guess it could have something to do with the case.”

“Are you suggesting a polar bear killed Sanders?” Lassiter asked skeptically.

“Of course not,” Shawn laughed. “That would be ridiculous.” He grabbed a notebook off of Newton's desk and threw it to Lassiter.

The detective barely managed to catch it. “Spencer, what the hell are you doing?” he asked angrily. “This is a potential crime scene!”

“Check the handwriting. I'm betting Newton is left handed, just like our killer.” Shawn gave Lassiter a smug look. “Or you could check the downstairs bathroom. I'm sensing there is a lab coat that may have the victim's blood on it.”

Lassiter passed the notebook to Juliet. “Let's check it out. If he's right, we'll call forensics.” He gave Shawn a stern look. “Don't. Touch. Anything,” he said forcefully before heading out the door.

“Good work, Shawn,” Juliet said. She smiled at him as she headed after Lassiter.

“And like that, I'm back in Jules' good graces,” Shawn said, taking a bow. “I am just that good.”

“You still need to figure out why Newton killed Sanders,” Gus said.

Shawn threw Gus a disgruntled look. “Can't you let me have my moment?” he whined.

“Your moment doesn't pay the bills,” Gus answered.

“Fine.” Shawn sighed. “Well, Lassiter and Jules probably picked over this room pretty well. Let's go check out the others.”

They went back out to the hallway and Shawn opened the door directly across from them. “Nope,” he said after a quick peek inside. He went to the next one. “Nope.” And the next one. “Nope.” He had almost circled back to Newton's room before he found a likely candidate. “Gus, open this door.”

Gus came over and tried to turn the handle. “It's locked.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “I know that. Pick the lock.”

“I don't know how to pick locks,” Gus said.

“I thought you had that subscription to a safe cracking magazine,” Shawn said in confusion.

“That's for safes, not locks,” Gus said. “Picking locks is illegal. Figuring out safe combinations is not.”

Shawn sighed. On to plan B. “Then go watch the stairs for Lassie and Jules.” He knelt down in the front of the lock and pulled a small packet from his back pocket.

“Are those lock picks Shawn?” Gus asked nervously. “Do you know how much trouble we'll be in if you're caught with those?”

“That's why I asked you to watch the stairs. Now let me concentrate.” Gus walked over to the stairs and worriedly looked down them. Shawn examined the lock. It had been a few years since he had done this, so he was a little out of practice. He selected his picks and got to work.

“Bingo,” he said after a couple of minutes. He waved Gus over and entered the room.

It appeared to be a combination library and laboratory. One half of the room contained a desk with bookcases lining the walls. The other half contained a table covered in lab equipment. The shelves along that half of the room were filled with more equipment and chemicals. Gus headed over to the table while Shawn went to check out the desk.

“This looks like a replica of Sanders' experiment,” Gus said after a moment. “There's some notes here as well.” He picked up a notebook, knocking a beaker on the floor in the process.

Shawn looked up from the desk at the sound of shattering glass. “Dude, Lassie said don't touch anything,” he complained.

Gus rolled his eyes at him and bent down to clean up the glass. He glanced under the table and jumped back with a yelp.

“What is it?” Shawn asked. “Did the dust bunnies scare you?”

“There's something under there,” Gus hissed, pointing at the table with a shaking hand.

Worried by the scared tone of Gus' voice, Shawn grabbed a metal statue off a shelf and cautiously approached the table. Taking a deep breath, he crouched down and peered underneath.

Two yellow eyes stared back at him from the darkness. “It's just a cat,” he said, looking at Gus with scorn. “Man up.”

Gus looked at the cat. It hissed at him. “That thing is evil Shawn.”

“Nonsense,” Shawn said, putting the statue down. “He's just scared. He's been locked up all alone for hours and just wants company.” His voice quickly dissolved into that cutesy tone used when talking to animals. He reached under the table towards the cat. “Come here little guy.”

Quick as a flash, the cat's paw slashed out. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, pulling his hand back quickly. Four oozing claw marks covered the back of his hand.

“Told you,” Gus said smugly. “You can never trust a cat.”

“Well, unless the cat wants to live under that table for the rest of its life, it has to come out,” Shawn said. He had always had a soft spot for cats. With Newton on the run, the poor thing needed someone to take care of it. He couldn't bring it home (he had learned the hard way Juliet's cat wasn't the friendliest with strange animals) but he could bring it to a shelter. He reached cautiously toward the cat again.

It waited until he was almost touching it before shooting past him out into the room. In the bright light he could see it was a gray tabby. It ran to Newton's desk and jumped on top, sending papers flying. It scrambled across the desk and launched itself through the open door.

Shawn and Gus just sat there a moment, staring at each other in shock. “At least it's not under the table anymore,” Shawn said at last. Ignoring Gus's disgruntled look, he took in the mess the cat had made. “Think Lassiter will believe the cat did it?”

Gus sighed. “I'll clean up the glass. You pick up the papers.”

Shawn walked over to the desk and survived the damage. Nearly everything from the desk's surface had ended up on the floor. He couldn't help but feel somewhat impressed. The cat had caused maximum dispersion of the desk's contents in under three seconds.

He heard distant yelling and a loud thud downstairs. It sounded like Lassiter and Juliet had found the cat. Knowing he didn't have a lot of time, he started picking up the papers. He frowned as he noticed that some of the pages looked familiar. He grabbed a handful and quickly started sorting through them on the desk. He soon had several separate piles and knew this was the proof they had been looking for.

“What are you doing?”

Shawn looked up. Gus had finished cleaning up the glass and had come to stand in front of the desk. He handed Gus one of the piles. “Look at this.”

Gus glanced at it. “It's a paper on a new plastic polymer.”

“Now check the dates of the experiments.”

Gus flipped the pages. “May 2006 to April 2008.” He looked up at Shawn. “So?”

“When I was doing research on Sanders, I looked at some of his recent research articles.” He pointed to the article in Gus's hand. “This paper almost exactly matches one of his articles. Only the dates of the experiments were changed.”

“Why would Newton have a research paper of Sanders' with different dates?” Gus asked.

“He wouldn't,” Shawn said. “Unless the dates of the published papers were wrong.” He pointed to the paper in Gus' hand. “I think this is the original. Sanders was his adviser. I bet Newton gave him the paper to review before he published it.”

“So Sanders stole one of his research papers?” Gus gave a low whistle. “That's cold.”

“Not just one.” Shawn gestured to the piles on the desk. “I'd say at least five, if not more. Probably all the recent papers he published he stole from Newton.”

“That would make a guy pretty angry,” Gus said, getting excited.

“And that, my friend, is motive,” Shawn said with satisfaction. He and Gus bumped fists just as they heard noises in the hallway. “Quick, throw the papers back on the floor.” He swept the pages off the desk, scattering them on the floor.

“Why?” Gus asked. Shawn grabbed the papers from his hand and threw them on the pile before pulling Gus to the other side of the room. “Can't you ever just tell them anything?” Gus asked in annoyance, catching on to what Shawn was trying to do.

“What kind of psychic would I be if I did that?” he asked innocently. He quickly put his hand out and closed his eyes, adopting an expression of fierce concentration. Moments later Lassiter and Juliet entered the room.

Lassiter surveyed the wreckage. “Spencer, I told you not to touch anything,” he said angrily.

“It was not I who moved these objects,” he said in a lofty voice, eyes still closed.

“I swear, if you say it was the spirits,” Lassiter growled. Shawn fought the urge to smile as he imagined the shade of red Lassiter was turning.

“It was a cat,” Gus said quickly, giving Shawn a nudge.

“You mean that poor gray tabby we saw downstairs?” Juliet asked in a soft voice. From her tone, Shawn could tell she was worried about the cat too.

“You mean that gray menace that tried to kill me,” Lassiter corrected.

“It did not try to kill you,” she said, an eye roll evident in her tone. “It was scared.”

“It was on the attack,” Lassiter said fiercely. “It tripped me into that table.”

“Can we focus people?” Shawn asked, opening his eyes. “I'm trying to divine something here.” He wasn't used to being ignored while having one of his 'visions.'

Lassiter leaned back against the door frame. “Go ahead. Divine away.” He looked at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes until forensics shows up. Make it fast.”

“So I was right about the lab coat?” he asked. He already knew he was right, but he just loved hearing it.

Lassiter nodded grudgingly. “The coat was where you said it would be, blood and all.”

“We also found shards of glass in one of the pockets,” Juliet added. “We're hoping it matches the shard found in Cooper's neck.”

“So we have the killer,” Shawn said. “Now we just need motive.” He closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate. He gave a fake wince. “I sense the killer was here, hatching his plan. He replicated one of Sanders experiments, tried to determine how to make it go horribly wrong.” Opening his eyes, he went over to the table, pretending to 'sense' the glassware. He stopped over the two beakers he remembered having the wrong chemicals in them. “Right here, he made a switch.” On a hunch, he grabbed the notebook Gus had pointed out off the table and threw it to Lassiter. “All that is explained in here. But the question is; why did he do it?” He started licking his hand, and then wiping his face. He got down on all fours and crawled over to Lassiter. “Meow,” he said and rubbed against the detective's legs.

Lassiter pushed him away violently. “Knock it off!” He looked over at Gus. “What the hell is he doing?”

Gus shot Shawn a look that said he hoped he knew what he was doing. “He's channeling Newton's cat.”

Shawn considered rubbing against Lassiter again but didn't like how close the detective's hand was resting to his gun. Instead, he crawled over to the pile of papers next to the desk and started scratching at them. “Meow,” he said, looking pointedly at Lassiter and Juliet.

She hurried over, while Lassiter followed reluctantly. As she started to pick up the papers, Shawn pretended to snap out of his trance. He coughed hard. “Hairball,” he explained at Juliet's concerned look.

Shawn saw Gus shake his head as he got up and moved out of the detectives' way. He sat down in Newton's desk chair and waited as they examined the papers.

Juliet spread a handful of pages across Newton's desk. “These look like research papers.” She started sorting them into piles like Shawn had done earlier.

Lassiter picked up one of the piles and leafed through it. “This looks familiar.”

She looked over his shoulder. “I'm pretty sure that's one of Sanders' research papers. I glanced through a couple when doing the background check. He published half a dozen papers in the last few months alone.”

“I'm sensing something about the dates,” Shawn said, squinting his eyes and putting his hand to his head. “The dates in these papers don't match the dates in the published papers.”

“Why would Sanders change the dates of his experiments?” she asked with a frown. “It shouldn't matter when the experiments took place.”

“It does if your rival is watching everything you do,” Shawn replied. “A rival that knows all the research you are pursuing. A rival that happened to take a sabbatical seven months ago.”

“During which time no one was paying close attention to what work Sanders was doing in his lab,” Lassiter said thoughtfully.

Shawn nodded encouragingly. The detective was almost there. “Or if he was doing any research at all,” he prompted.

“Sanders was Newton's adviser,” Lassiter said, slowly putting it together. “He would have reviewed anything Newton was planning to publish.” He looked over at Juliet as comprehension dawned on her face.

“Sanders stole Newton's research – ” Juliet started.

“ – And passed if off as his own.” Lassiter finished.

“That seems like pretty solid motive to me,” Shawn said, standing up. “Looks like my work here is done.”

Lassiter was busy sorting the pages into separate papers. Juliet nudged him. He looked at her and sighed heavily. He glanced at Shawn and mumbled something.

“I don't think he heard that,” she said, nudging Lassiter again.

Lassiter cleared his throat. “Um, good work Spencer,” he said gruffly. He never looked up from sorting the papers.

“Thanks Lassiepants,” Shawn said. “Always happy to do – help you do your job.” He changed his sentence midflow at a look from Juliet. She nodded approvingly at him.

After a moment of awkward silence, he said, “Time to go Gus.” He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him from the room.

As they headed down the stairs, he noticed Gus grinning smugly at him. “What?”

“She owns you man,” Gus said. “You _and_ Lassiter.”

“She does not own me,” he protested. No one told Shawn Spencer what to do. Well, except maybe in bed but that was entirely different and something he had promised Gus he would never, ever talk about in front of him again.

“So it was your idea to have that very touching moment with Lassiter?” Gus asked, grinning.

“I was just trying to make her happy,” he said defensively. He moved aside to let the forensics people past before heading out the front door.

“So her happiness is more important than what you want?” Gus asked, still grinning.

“Yes. No. I don't know.” He threw up his arms in frustration. “She does not own me.”

“Whatever you say,” Gus said, getting into the car.

Shawn joined him. “Just for that, you're paying for pizza,” he said, buckling up.

“We can't,” Gus said. “I have a date tonight and you have dinner at your dad's.”

Shawn groaned. He had forgotten he was supposed to go over to his dad's tonight. Nikki would be there and he still didn't have any answers for her. He pulled out his phone and sighed. Still no calls. “What am I going to tell Nikki?” he asked quietly.

Gus looked at him seriously. “The truth. You're doing everything you can to find her dad. Sometimes it just takes time.”

“But what if I don't find him in time? What if she has to go back to foster care?” He heard the panic in his voice and looked away. He didn't know exactly when Nikki had become so important to him, but he could barely stand the thought of letting her down.

“You'll find him,” Gus said with confidence. “You've solved harder cases than this one.”

Shawn looked at him and saw Gus was being completely serious. He smiled, glad at least one person believed he could do it. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Gus said. He glanced at the clock. “I've got to hurry. Rachel likes me to arrive early for our dates so we have extra time to talk.”

Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Now who's owned by their woman?” He laughed at the glare Gus gave him. “You're the one that started it, not me.”

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus said, putting the car in gear and pulling out onto the street.

Shawn continued to grin, noting silently to himself Gus hadn't argued the point.


	11. Spencer Family Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a huge thank you to Redwolffclaw for being an awesome beta. Her enthusiasm is what is keeping this story going when life keeps getting me down. Any mistakes left in this chapter are strictly my own.

Shawn stared pensively out the window of his father’s kitchen, a barely touched beer in his hand. His dad was out back grilling up some steaks. Nikki was upstairs somewhere, probably snooping around. With time to himself and nothing to do, his mind was free to wander.

The blood on the lab coat was a preliminary match for Cooper's blood type. The glass shards matched those found in the wound, which the lab now surmised came from a broken beaker. They had enough evidence to charge Newton but still needed to find him. An APB was out on him and his car, but there hadn’t been any hits yet.

He should be trying to determine Newton's next move. Instead, his mind kept straying to the girl upstairs. He pulled out his phone.

Still no calls.

“You should tell her.”

Shawn turned around. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard his dad enter the kitchen. He had pulled his father aside soon after he arrived and filled him in on what was going on with Nikki's case, including the meeting with Vick. “What, are _you_ the psychic now?” he asked with a smirk, leaning back against the counter.

Henry pointed to the phone still in his hand. “Just as much as you are.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and stood next to the island facing Shawn. “She's a tough kid. She deserves to know what's going on.”

“I'll have a few extra days before the Denver PD can send someone down here,” Shawn said, putting his phone away.

“Time you'll need to convince the father to take the kid,” Henry pointed out.

“She's a great kid. Who wouldn't want her?” he asked.

“You know as well as I do that the world doesn't always work that way,” Henry put down his beer and crossed his arms. “What are you going to do if he doesn't want to take her? Or you can't find him in time?”

“I'm not sending her back to foster care,” he said stubbornly. He looked down, picking at the label on his bottle. “I promised I would help her and that is what I'm going to do.”

“You can't save everyone, kid. Fact of life,” Henry said. He patted Shawn on the shoulder and grabbed his beer before heading back outside.

“I don't need to save everyone,” he muttered to himself. “Just her.” He took a sip of his beer and made a face. It had grown warm while he was thinking, the liquid flat and sour on his tongue. He dumped the rest of it in the sink and put the empty bottle on the counter. Then he picked it back up and started picking at the label again.

With the deadline fast approaching and still no idea who her father was, he had been wondering what would happen to Nikki if he failed. He couldn't send her back into the system, and she had no other family to go to. Maybe he could get someone he knew to agree to foster her to buy him time. She was already living at his dad’s place; they could just make it official. He would volunteer himself if he thought social services would agree to it. Unfortunately he wasn’t exactly a model of dependability or maturity. Though the fact he lived with a cop would certainly sway things in his favor.

The sound of someone pounding down the stairs gave him just enough warning to put a grin on his face before Nikki entered the room. “Hey Nikki.”

“Hey Shawn!” she said. “Is dinner done yet? I'm starving.” She was dressed in the same clothes he had first seen her in; jeans and a blue t-shirt. A smudge of dirt stretched across one cheek and more smudges marked her pants where she had wiped her hands.

“First, you should probably clean that up,” he said, tapping his cheek.

She touched her own cheek and noticed the dirt. She grinned sheepishly as she wiped her cheek and tried to brush the worst of the dust off her clothes. “I can explain.”

“Just wash it off before my dad sees it,” he said. He moved out of the way so she could reach the sink. “By the way, all the good stuff is in the back right corner and avoid any boxes with a skull and crossbones on it.”

She glanced over at him. “I'll have to remember that,” she said with a grin.

“Food's ready!” Henry called from outside.

“Let's eat.” Nikki quickly dried her hands and Shawn grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge before they headed out the back door.

They sat around the table helping themselves to corn on the cob and mashed potatoes while Henry dished out the steaks. As soon as she filled her plate, Nikki attacked the food with gusto. Shawn had seen wild animals eat with less ferocity. After a couple of minutes, she noticed Shawn and Henry staring at her. She quickly swallowed the food in her mouth and ducked her head in embarrassment. “I'm eating too fast again?” she asked Shawn.

Shawn exchanged a look with his father. “Just a little,” he lied, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable. He was still surprised at how quickly she could consume food though know he knew why she had developed that habit. “It's not going anywhere. Remember to take time to chew your food. And breathing. That's important too.”

She glared at him before turning to Henry. “The food is very good,” she said.

“Glad you like it,” Henry said, pleased. He pointed his fork at Shawn. “Shawn here never seems to appreciate my cooking. That's why he never stops by anymore.”

“It's not the cooking, it's the lecturing,” Shawn corrected. “That, and 'the incident' _._ ” He shuddered, remembering the time he had accidentally walked in on his parents having sex.

“What incident?” she asked curiously.

“Don't ask,” Shawn and Henry said together. They looked at each other, surprised they had managed to agree on something. Nikki watched them for a moment to see if either of them would say anything else. When neither of them did, she went back to her food.

After that they enjoyed a few minutes of comfortable silence, a rare event in the Spencer household. Put him and his father in the same room and a fight was bound to happen sooner or later, usually sooner. He tried his best to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

“So,” Nikki said slowly, her tone drawing his full attention. “Did you find out anything about my father?”

“I did,” he said. She looked at him, hope mixed with caution in her eyes. “I'm waiting to hear back from someone but if we're lucky, he'll know your father's name.” He met his own father's gaze, and very slightly shook his head. He wasn't going to burden her with the rest. Henry frowned in disapproval but nodded back, showing he wouldn't go against Shawn's decision in this.

Nikki didn't notice the exchange. She was toying with her food, looking like she was debating asking the next question. She took a deep breath and glanced up at him. “Do you think he'll want me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Um. . . ” He looked at his father, unsure how to answer her question.

Henry reached out and patted Nikki's hand. “No matter what happens, you'll always have a place here if you need it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer,” she said gratefully, giving him a warm smile.

He just stared at his father in surprise. Old age sure had changed him. He never would have opened his doors to a complete stranger like this before. Or maybe it was just that quality Nikki seemed to have that made people like her.

Henry noticed his stare and turned red. “I'm gonna get another beer,” he said, standing up. “You guys want anything?” When Shawn and Nikki shook their heads, he walked around the table and into the house.

Nikki had finished off her first plate and was filling up a second one. Scooping up mashed potatoes, she asked, “How's the Sanders' case coming?”

“It's going good,” he said. “Great in fact. We figured out who the killer is.” He puffed his chest out proudly. “And by _we_ I mean me of course.”

“What tipped you off?” she asked eagerly.

“We already knew the killer had to have access to the lab,” he said. Nikki nodded. “There was a gray cat hair found at the crime scene. I remembered one of the guys we talked to had a cat scratch on his hand. He knew Cooper and worked closely with Sanders. I convinced the police to check out his house.”

Henry had rejoined them while he was explaining their latest breakthrough to Nikki and was now frowning at him. “Should you be discussing the case with her?” Henry asked bluntly. “Remember what happened last time?”

“How was I supposed to know she was a reporter?” Shawn asked. His dad gave him a look. “Okay, so maybe I was a little drunk.” _A lot drunk_ , he corrected silently in his head. Vick had cut him off from cases for a month after that incident. “Besides, this is a completely different situation. She's my psychic apprentice, so I have to share cases with her.” He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth.

“Psychic apprentice?” Henry asked sharply.

Shawn sighed. “It was a spur of the moment decision.” One he had planned to never tell his father about. “She crashed a crime scene. I was trying to keep her out of jail.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “ _I_ wasn't going to let her get arrested.”

Henry's face tightened but he let the comment pass. “She wouldn't have been at the crime scene if she didn't already know about the case,” he said shrewdly.

“Technically, she figured out the case on her own,” he said defensively. This is why he hated discussing things with the ex cop. “Tell him, Nikki.”

“It's true.” She wilted as he gave her his 'cop stare,' designed to make even hardened criminals flinch. “I guessed what case he was working on and pestered him until he told me about it.” Her voice grew more and more quiet until it was nearly inaudible by the end.

Henry nodded, evidently believing her story, before turning the stare on Shawn. “You need to start acting more responsibly. You can't bring a kid into these kind of dangerous situations.”

“It's not like I'm bringing her to drug busts or to chase down hostile suspects,” Shawn said angrily. Henry's stare didn't have the same effect on him as it had on Nikki but he still hated that his father thought he was that irresponsible. “We were just talking about the case. She's been a big help already.” He looked at Nikki proudly. She gave small smile but glanced worriedly at Henry.

Henry stared at him silently for a moment. “Fine. But you're responsible if anything happens to her.”

“Nothing's going to happen,” Shawn said with exasperation. Henry just grunted, shaking his head slowly.

A tense silence fell between them. “Well, go on,” Henry said at last. “What did you find in the house?”

Shawn hid a grin. His father couldn't resist hearing about his cases. As much as Henry complained about Shawn coming to him for help, his father loved being involved. “We found evidence to link Newton to both Cooper's and Sanders' murders. He had even made a replica of Sanders' experiment, complete with notes on possible ways to tamper with it. I also 'divined' why he did it, with the help of his cat.”

“Was it a cute cat?” Nikki asked eagerly.

It looked like he had found another cat lover. He thought back to the glimpse he had had of the cat as it shot out of the room. “Yeah, sure.” He would never understand women's fascination with the cuteness of a cat. It was a fierce, proud animal, not a cuddly plaything. He absentmindedly rubbed the cat scratches on his hand. Whatever. Back to the case. “The reason he did it –”

“What color was the cat?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Gray,” he said shortly. He saw his father smirking at him and chose to ignore it. “He did it because – “

“What will happen to the cat now?” she asked urgently. She seemed genuinely worried about the well-being of the now homeless animal.

He sighed. “I don't know. It will probably end up at the animal shelter.” He thought about how wild the cat was. “If someone is able to catch it, that is.”

“Poor thing,” she said sadly. He tell how upset this was making her. Truth be told, he wasn't happy about the cat's situation either. He didn't like the idea of it wandering the streets, cold and hungry. He wondered if there was a way he could catch it. Juliet had bought some humane squirrel traps to rescue some from Lassiter's attic before the detective shot them. Maybe they would work on cats too.

“No, Shawn,” Henry said, interrupting his thoughts. “I know what you're thinking. No cats. Not in my house.”

“I wasn't thinking that,” he said irritably. _But I am now_. Nikki had been through a lot. She could use a small furry animal to keep her company. His dad was eyeing him suspiciously, so he decided to figure out the details later. “Any more questions?”

“How did you 'divine' the motive?” she asked.

He grinned. “That was a combination of research and luck. The cat knocked over some papers on Newton's desk. While picking them up, I noticed they were identical to research papers Sanders had published recently.”

“He stole Newton's work,” Henry surmised.

Shawn nodded. “He changed the dates of the experiments to cover his tracks, but otherwise he copied Newton's work word for word.”

“Did you make up a vision to explain it to the police?” she asked curiously.

Henry frowned at her words. Shawn knew Nikki wouldn't tell anyone his secret and hoped he could convince his dad of the same thing. “Even better,” Shawn said. “I pretended to channel Newton's cat. I crawled around, meowing and scratching at things I wanted them to pay attention to.”

She grinned. “I would have loved to see that.”

“You should have seen Lassie's face when I rubbed up against his leg,” Shawn said, laughing.

“You shouldn't antagonize him so much,” Henry said. “One of these days he'll arrest you.”

“Please, he already tried that once,” Shawn said dismissively. “I doubt he'll try it again.”

“Why did he try to arrest you?” Nikki asked.

Shawn smiled at her. “That is an interesting story.” He recounted the tale of his first meeting with Detective Lassiter, and the events that led to the formation of Psych. He then went on to tell her about some of his more memorable cases. His dad, having lived through most of them, headed back inside the house.

Some time later, he noticed the sun about to set. “Well, that's probably enough for today,” he said reluctantly. It was nice having someone he could discuss past cases with who hadn't been directly involved. Plus Nikki knew his secret, so unlike most people he could tell her how he really solved them.

Nikki tilted her head. “There's something puzzling me about the reunion case,” she said. “Who's Judd Nelson?”

“Who's Judd Nelson?” he asked in disbelief. “Haven't you ever seen the _Breakfast Club_?” She shook her head. He glanced at his watch. Juliet would probably be home late; the police were still trying to track down Newton. “Come on,” he said, standing up and holding a hand out to Nikki. “I think my dad still has a copy lying around somewhere.”

* * *

Henry turned a page in his book. He was sitting in his kitchen, having given up the living room to Shawn and Nikki's mini movie marathon. Shawn liked to give a running commentary to any movie he'd seen before, making it impossible to watch anything with him. They had started with the _Breakfast Club_ , then gone on to _Teen Wolf_. They were halfway through _Ghostbusters_ when it dawned on him it had gone suspiciously quiet.

Nikki came into the room and walked over to the fridge. “How's the movie?” he asked, looking up from his book.

She pulled out a soda and popped open the can. “Good.” She glanced toward the living room. “Shawn fell asleep about ten minutes ago. I came in here so I wouldn't wake him up.” She walked over and sat down at the table.

Henry put his book down. “He was probably up late playing video games or some other nonsense.” He had hoped being with Juliet would cause Shawn to finally grow up, at least a little. So far, that didn't seem to be the case.

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. She stared down at the can cupped in her hands. “Gus called during the second movie. Half the conversation consisted of Shawn saying 'I'm fine,' over and over again. I think Gus is worried about him.” She looked up at him with concern.

“Mmm.” Gus usually didn't worry about Shawn without a good reason. Maybe he should have a talk with Gus and find out if anything was going on he should know about. Gods knows Shawn wouldn't say anything himself.

Henry looked Nikki over. She sure was a perceptive kid. Speaking of which – “So you know he's not a psychic?”

She looked at him guiltily. “I promise I won't tell anyone. Shawn does good work and I wouldn't want to ruin that.” She looked down at her soda again. “I only figured it out by accident,” she said quietly.

“Go on,” he said, intrigued. Few people had figured out the truth to Shawn's act over the years. He wanted to know what had given him away this time.

She fiddled with her soda. “The thing is – ”

A knock on the door interrupted her. “Hold on a moment,” he said. She nodded, looking relieved. He made a mental note of her expression. She was hiding something that was related to his son's secret and it warranted further investigation.

The knock sounded again. “I'm coming,” he called, annoyed by the impatience of the knocker. People today were in too much of a hurry. “Juliet,” he said in surprise when he opened the door. “Come in.” He stepped back to let her into the kitchen. “What brings you here so late?”

“I'm sorry to bother you Henry, but I'm looking for Shawn,” she said, glancing around the room. “Is he here?” Her gaze lingered on Nikki before she looked back at him. “It's for a case,” she said apologetically.

“He's asleep in the other room,” Nikki said.

“He's asleep?” Juliet asked in surprise. She hesitated. “Maybe you should just let him rest. I'm sure we'll be fine without him.”

“Nonsense,” Henry said briskly. “He has a job to do. He can sleep later.” Ignoring her protests, he left the room to wake up Shawn.

* * *

Juliet looked after Henry, frowning. She knew Shawn wasn't getting enough sleep and hated to wake him, but despite what she said they did need him for the case.

She heard a sound behind her and turned. Nikki had gotten up from the table and stood looking at her cautiously. She seemed different than the she had at the crime scene, more wary. Given what she had been through, Juliet couldn't blame her.

“Hi,” Nikki said, after a moment.

“Hi,” Juliet said back. She held out her hand. “I'm Juliet.”

Nikki shook it. “Nikki.” The two stood in silence for moment, unsure what to say. “You work with Shawn?” she asked.

“Yes, at the police station,” Juliet replied.

“And you're his girlfriend?” Nikki asked. “Shawn told me,” she explained at her surprised look.

“Yes, Shawn and I are dating,” Juliet said.

Nikki titled her head, looking at Juliet curiously. “Is it hard, working with someone you're dating?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. She heard a muffled curse from the next room. It seemed Henry had succeeded in waking Shawn up. “But it's worth it, if it's the right guy.”

Nikki nodded in understanding. “He's pretty great, isn't he?”

“He is,” she agreed. The two shared a smile at the thought of the psychic. Seeing Nikki smile like that, Juliet could understand why helping her was so important to Shawn. There was something about her that made the world seem a little bit brighter, a little more exciting. It was that same quality that had attracted Juliet to Shawn. Despite the horrible things he had seen, he managed to look on the bright side and belief things would work out in the end. Maybe it was naïve to look at life like that but without people like Nikki and Shawn the world would be a dull place.

She hoped everything worked out for Nikki, for both their sakes.

Shawn came stumbling into the room, followed closely by Henry. Her boyfriend only looked half awake and she wondered again if it might have been better to just let him sleep. “Jules,” Shawn said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He tried, and failed, to smother a yawn.

“They found Newton's car at the bus station. The Chief wants us to check it out.” Juliet noticed the dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced then earlier. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Peachy,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Just need to give my brain a little time to warm up.” He looked at Henry and Nikki. “We must be off!” He headed for the door, grabbing Juliet's arm along the way.

“It was nice to meet you Nikki,” she said as Shawn dragged her out the door. “Good night Henry.”

“Good night, Juliet,” Henry called after her.

“Night Juliet. Night Shawn,” Nikki said.

Shawn didn't let go of his arm until they reached the car. He opened the passenger door as she got in on the driver's side. She studied him carefully as he struggled to buckle his seat belt. “Are you sure you're okay?”

He finally got the seat belt closed. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his face. The answer sounded more reflexive than anything. He smiled at her in reassurance. “Let's go.”

With some misgivings, she popped the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway. Shawn was pushing himself to hard. When this was over she was going to make sure he got some rest.


	12. (Almost)The Breaking Point or Why Irish Detectives Need Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 95% new material. The events that take place were referenced in the original story but because of the way I separated the chapters I didn't have room for the scenes. Now I do and I hope you all enjoy them.

_Saturday_

  
  


Juliet sighed, wishing she could cover her head with a pillow and ignore her ringing phone. She knew when she became a cop that she would always be on call in case something happened but sometimes it was hard to remember why she agreed to it all. Like right now, when she was pulled from some badly needed rest. A glance at the clock showed she had barely been asleep two hours.

Shawn groaned next to her, a frown marring his features as he ducked his head under the blankets. Not wanting to wake him up if she didn't have to, she reluctantly slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone. “O'Hara,” she answered quietly.

“Detective, I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you to come down to the station.”

Juliet glanced at her sleeping boyfriend and quietly left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. “Can this wait Chief? Shawn and I only got home a couple hours ago.”

Vick sighed. “I'm sorry O'Hara but it cannot, and I'll need you to bring Spencer in with you as well.”

“Is there any way we can do this without him?” Juliet asked. “He's been pushing himself too hard and really needs the rest.”

“I'm aware of Spencer's condition but with a killer on the loose and no leads to finding him I'm afraid I need everyone in.” Vick genuinely sounded regretful, which made it hard to be mad at her.

Juliet rubbed her forehead with her free hand and stifled a groan. She had friends with normal nine to five jobs. They were probably sleeping right now, all warm and cozy in their beds, or just waking up from a restful night’s sleep. They didn’t have to worry about being woken up in the middle of the night to go to a crime scene or running on little sleep for days trying to solve a case. She was jealous of the peaceful existence they got to lead but knew it was only possible because of people like her.

Though if she was being completely honest, she never would have been truly happy living like that. She loved not knowing what to expect when she went into work every day and the thrill of catching a criminal. At the end of a long, tiring day she usually had the satisfaction of knowing she had made a difference in the world.

And, if she wasn’t a cop, she never would have met Shawn.

She slumped back against the wall. “All right, we’ll be there soon. Have you called Carlton?”

Vick chuckled dryly. “There was no need. He hasn't left the station yet.”

Juliet winced. Carlton could be particularly hard to deal with when he was sleep deprived. “I'll bring in coffee for everyone.”

“Thank you, O’Hara,” Vick said with such gratitude she wondered just how long the Chief had been up herself. “I’ll expect to see you and Spencer soon.”

Juliet ended the call and stared down at the phone. Her background was a picture of her and Shawn at the end of their first date, standing on the boardwalk. She was laughing and Shawn had a sly grin on his face. What you couldn’t see in the picture was that Shawn had slipped a hand up under her shirt and was tickling her sides. She had wanted to be annoyed at Shawn for ruining the picture but all she could think about at the time was the way his hands felt against her bare skin. They had quickly headed back to her place after the picture was taken, where she had done a thorough study of how his touch felt against all manner of body parts; and done some touching of her own in return.

She sighed. Once this case was solved, maybe she could take Shawn out to dinner to that same little pizzeria they had gone to on their first real date and see if they could recreate some memories. They hadn’t had a date night out in a while because of work and they could both use a break.

Right now, however, they had a job to do. Juliet re-entered the bedroom and went over to Shawn's side of the bed. “Shawn, sweetie,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder. “You need to get up.”

Shawn groaned, peeking his head out from under the blankets and opening one bloodshot eye to peer up at her. “Jules?”

She ran a hand lightly through his hair. “Shawn, you need to get up. We have to go.”

Shawn sighed heavily. “But I'm so tired,” he said, sounding so weary and pathetic that Juliet almost considered leaving him and making up some excuse to the Chief. She knew Shawn desperately needed sleep but she also knew he would be upset if she didn't wake him up for this. Vick had insisted everyone needed to come in and her boyfriend was an important part of the team.

“I'm sorry Shawn, but the Chief needs us at the station.”

Shawn sighed again but struggled to sit up. “Newton?”

Juliet nodded. “Vick didn’t say what exactly but it has something to do with the case.”

Shawn stretched and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. With the way his hair was sticking up Juliet was reminded of a sleepy five year old and couldn’t help smiling.

“What?” Shawn asked suspiciously.

Juliet shook her head. “Nothing.” She stepped away to get dressed when Shawn grabbed her arm and pulled her down on the bed next to him. “Shawn!” she protested before his lips met hers in a kiss.

“Better than coffee for waking you up,” he said with a sly grin as he pulled away.

She reached up and ruffled his hair, grinning at his indignant squawk. “Now that you are awake, get dressed. I promised we would grab coffee for everyone on our way in. Carlton hasn’t even gone home yet and will definitely need it.”

Shawn got out of bed and went over to his dresser. “Maybe I should see if a kiss would wake him up too.”

Juliet laughed. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you. With how sleep deprived he is bound to be, he really would shoot you.”

Shawn grinned as he slipped his shirt over his head. “Don’t worry, my kisses are only for you.” He gave her another one before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to infringe on Marlowe’s turf. That woman is tougher than she looks and I'd like to keep my boy parts intact.”

Juliet had to agree after hearing some of the stories Carlton had passed along after one of his visits to the woman’s prison his girlfriend was incarcerated in. “I want you to try to behave today. Everyone is under a lot of pressure already with this case.”

Shawn re-entered the bedroom, looking somewhat more awake and smelling of pineapple and citrus. Still, Juliet could see the dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look to his face. “I know Jules. I want to catch Newton just as much as everyone else.”

Juliet walked over to him as she finished buttoning up her shirt. “Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

Shawn smiled that slow, sexy smile that always made her shiver. “I won’t.” He gave her another kiss, this one longer and deeper than the others. It was broken when he had to pull away to yawn.

Juliet grinned. “Very romantic.”

Shawn shrugged. “I try.” He kissed her lightly on the lips again before pulling away. “I’ll let you finish getting ready.”

Juliet noticed him try to hide another yawn as he left. She frowned as she finished getting dressed. Yes, Shawn was an important part of the team and it was almost impossible to order him off a case. But between this case and how hard he was working to find Nikki’s father, she worried that he was overextending himself. He also had a frightening tendency to end up in dangerous situations and with his level of exhaustion it would be easy from him to slip up and get himself killed.

“Jules? You ready yet?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and quickly put a smile on her face. “Coming.”

Shawn looked at her quizzically. “Everything okay?”

Juliet forced her worries to the back of her mind. It was no good borrowing trouble ahead of time. “I’m fine,” she said and this time her smile felt genuine. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Shawn slowly sipped his coffee, staring at Pratt through the two-way mirror. His head felt full of cotton and his eyes itched from lack of sleep. He rubbed them blearily, trying to get them to focus on the man in the interrogation room.

It was really unfair how well-groomed and un-sleep deprived Pratt appeared with that slimy smirk on his face. Of course, _he_ hadn't been out half the night chasing down a lead that hadn't gone anywhere. None of the night shift workers at the bus depot had seen Newton and his car hadn't yielded any clues to where he was heading. There was a chance someone on the day crew had seen him but Shawn wasn't holding out much hope. Newton was too smart to use public transportation; he would know it would be monitored. However, the bus depot _was_ the perfect place to ditch the car the police were tracking and either leave on foot or hitch a ride with someone.

With no clue where Newton was even heading, they were at a dead end.

Shawn was pulled from his thoughts by the door to the observation room opening. “Carlton and I are heading in,” Juliet said. “The Chief wants you to watch and see if you sense anything.”

“This whole thing is a waste of time,” Lassiter complained. “I doubt this asshat has anything useful he can tell us.”

“Carlton, be nice. He’s doing us a favor by coming in to answer our questions,” Juliet said, though her words lacked any real conviction to them.

“It’d be a better favor if he came in at a reasonable hour,” Lassiter grumbled.

Juliet ignored him and looked at Shawn. “Let us know if you come up with anything we should ask him.”

“How about, was he always a soul-sucking demon or did he become that way after years of teaching college students?”

“ _Serious_ questions Shawn.”

Shawn pouted. “But I was serious.”

“O’Hara, let’s get this over with already,” Lassiter interrupted. “I’d like to make some real progress on this case this morning.”

“Knock him dead, Lassie,” Shawn said.

Lassiter muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I wish’ before leading Juliet into the interrogation room. Shawn moved back over to the window to watch.

“Why, officer Lassiter, what a pleasure to see you again,” Pratt said with false sincerity.

“That is _Detective_ Lassiter,” the Head Detective scowled. He sat down in one of the chairs across from Pratt. Juliet sat down in the other.

“Right, right.” Pratt turned his gaze on Juliet. “I see your lovely partner is with you this time. Lovely to see you again, though I must say, that pantsuit does not become you. You would be better suited in something more. . . feminine.”

Shawn saw Juliet’s eyes narrow. His girlfriend hated being considered weak just because she was a woman. He hoped Pratt didn’t push her too far. When she got really mad, even Lassiter was afraid of her.

Then again, considering how much he hated Pratt, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“We’re not here to discuss clothing,” Lassiter said. “We’re here to get any information you have about Timothy Newton.”

Pratt eyed Lassiter for a long moment before settling back in his chair with a sigh. “I didn’t work directly with Newton but I did see him around and, well, students tend to gossip.” He rolled his eyes, as if _he_ was above such failings. “My impression is that he was a loner but did his job well. I had thought Newton fairly intelligent, though if a hack like Sanders stole his research I must have been wrong.” He looked disdainfully at the detectives. “The fact I am here proves he was smarter than the two of you at least. I shudder at what that means for the safety of this city.”

Lassiter tensed and leaned forward in his chair until Juliet put a calming hand on his arm. “Do you have any idea where Newton may have gone?” she asked.

Pratt shook his head. “Isn't it your job to figure that out? I hope our tax dollars are not being wasted on layabouts waiting for others to do their jobs for them.” Pratt smirked at Lassiter. “Or is that the reason you keep that annoying psychic around?”

“Watch your mouth or you'll wind up in a holding cell,” Lassiter snapped.

“On what charges?” Pratt tsked, shaking his head. “Really, _detective_ , I would expect better from you than empty threats. If I expected anything at all, that is.”

Lassiter's hands clenched into fists. “How about obstruction of justice for wasting our time? I have yet to hear anything that is useful to the case.”

Pratt shrugged. “You were the one that requested this interview, not me. I merely showed up to see if there was any way I could help.”

This was not going well. Not only was Pratt a complete waste of time, he was seriously pissing off Lassiter. The detective had trouble controlling his temper around this guy when he was fully alert; Shawn was worried what would happen with Lassiter sleep-deprived and already irritable.

“We are grateful for your help,” Juliet said, looking like the words left a foul taste in her mouth. “My partner has just been stressed trying to find Newton before he hurts anyone else.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t know it was him before he went after Cooper.” Pratt shook his head. “Maybe if you hadn’t been wasting your time with me you could have saved him.”

It was a low blow that struck all three of them hard. Juliet bit her lip, looking like she either wanted to scream at Pratt or cry. Lassiter was giving Pratt such a death glare Shawn was surprised the man hadn’t keeled over already.

As for himself, he had to quickly put his coffee down before his suddenly shaking hands caused him to drop it. He had known Pratt was innocent but he also hadn’t figured out it was Newton in time to save Cooper either. Pratt had known just what to say to throw all of them off their game.

He saw Juliet glance worriedly at the mirror and knew he had to do something to stop this. He headed over to the door to the interrogation room. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do but he was used to winging it.

“Ah, here's the charlatan,” Pratt said when he entered the room. “Funny how you're always stepping in when the detective here screws up. I guess the reason they keep you around is to clean up his mess.”

“That is it!” Lassiter lunged across the table at Pratt.

Shawn was too surprised to react but luckily Juliet was not. She immediately grabbed her partner around the shoulders and pulled him back. “Shawn! Help me!”

Shawn jumped forwards, grabbing Lassiter from the other side. He got elbowed hard in the side for his troubles, knocking the wind out of him. “Dude, Lassie, calm down!” he gasped as he tried to catch his breath and still hold on to the struggling detective. “Now is not the time to go all Rambo on his ass. You could never pull off Stallone.”

Lassiter glared at him. “Let me go.”

“No.” With Juliet’s help, he dragged Lassiter out of the room. He had a glimpse of Pratt watching them with smug amusement before Juliet shut the door.

“Get off me!” Lassiter yanked himself from their grip and took a few steps away, breathing hard.

“Carlton?” Juliet asked, watching her partner carefully.

“I’m fine,” Lassiter snapped. He turned away, reaching one hand up to lean against the wall. His other hand was still clenched into a fist at his side but Shawn didn’t think he was going to punch anyone anymore. Still, he kept his distance to be safe.

“I have to go back in there and try to convince Pratt not to press charges,” Juliet said. Lassiter didn’t move but the way his shoulders tensed told Shawn he had heard her. “You need to come up with something to tell the Chief when she hears about this.”

Lassiter nodded sharply, still facing away from them. Juliet turned to Shawn. “Keep an eye on him?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” Shawn said, crossing his arms. He winced as he pulled on his undoubtedly bruised ribs.

“Are you okay?” Juliet asked in concern.

“Lassie has really pointy elbows,” Shawn complained. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze as he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Go take care of Pratt.”

Juliet looked at the interrogation room and made a face. “I won’t be long.”

After Juliet left, Shawn leaned carefully against the wall next to Lassiter. “That was a pretty stupid thing to do.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lassiter said, turning his head to look at Shawn. “I’m well aware of my own failings. I don’t need someone else pointing them out to me.”

Shawn looked closer at the detective. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath them, giving him the appearance of a rabid raccoon. “When was the last time you slept?”

Lassiter sighed. “Day before last. I think.”

Shawn shook his head. “Dude, maybe you should take a nap or something. Just because crime doesn't sleep doesn't mean you don't have to.”

Lassiter scowled at him. “I can't just leave in the middle of an investigation.”

“Juliet can handle things for a little while. I’m sure she’ll call you if something came up.”

Lassiter looked tempted for a moment, but then shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted.”

Lassiter snorted. “You're one to talk. When was the last time you had a full night's sleep, Spencer?”

Shawn shook his head. “This isn't about me. I'm not the one in danger of being arrested for assault.”

Lassiter crossed his arms. “I can handle losing a little sleep. I'll rest once we have Newton behind bars.”

The interrogation room door opened and Pratt walked out. Shawn glanced at Lassiter worriedly. The detective had gone ramrod stiff and was glaring murderously at the professor but didn’t seem like he was about to take his head off.

Pratt smirked and shook his head when he saw the detective. Shawn put a warning hand on his arm as Lassiter unconsciously leaned forward. Thankfully, Pratt didn’t say anything as he walked past them and up the stairs.

“Jackass,” Lassiter muttered.

“I’d have to agree with you on this one, Lassie,” Shawn said. “That guy is a real peace of work.” Lassiter looked down where Shawn was still gripping his arm. Shawn quickly pulled his hand back while it was still attached to his body. “I didn’t want you getting in any more trouble. Jules would kill me if I did.”

“I wouldn’t have done anything,” Lassiter said, not sounding very convincing. He sighed, slumping back against the wall. “Besides, he’s right.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Look, Lassie – ”

“Do not let that bastard get to you.” Shawn turned as a very pissed off Juliet walked towards them. “He isn't worth the air he's wasting, let alone letting him have the satisfaction of messing with your head.”

“Jules, are you okay?” Shawn asked, surprised by how angry she was.

“I had to apologize to him about what happened,” Juliet said. Shawn didn't miss the way Lassiter flinched at her words. “Do you know what he said? He said he’ll ‘let it go this time since Carlton's partner is a woman and obviously couldn't provide the backup he needed.’” She huffed angrily. “As if my being a woman had anything to do with the vile words coming out of that man's mouth. He's a horrible, condescending, miserable excuse for a human being.”

Shawn was really glad Pratt had already left. If not, he would have been sorely tempted to punch the other man himself. Or let Juliet do it; from the way her hands were clenched into fists at her side and her shoulders were tight and tense, Pratt was lucky not to have a black eye right now. He had rarely seen Juliet this angry before. “Wow, Jules, why don't you tell us what you really think of him?” he said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. He flinched when she favored him with an icy glare.

“You want to know what I really think?” Juliet let loose with a string of curses that made Lassiter's eyes go wide in shock.

“Why, Juliet O'Hara,” Shawn said with an impressed grin. “I didn't know you had it in you.” He walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped her in a hug. “Do you feel better now that you let all that out?” he asked quietly.

Juliet sighed, relaxing in his arms. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good.” He gently steered her towards the stairs. “Now, we are going to forget we ever talked to Pratt this morning and get back to trying to figure out where Newton is.” He glanced over at the other detective. “You in on this plan, Lassie?”

Lassiter grimaced, like he did whenever he was forced to agree with Shawn, but nodded. “Come on O’Hara. We’ll go over Newton’s known associates again. Someone has to have an idea of where he could be heading.”

Shawn reached out and slung his free arm around Lassiter’s shoulders while still keeping his other arm around Juliet. “See, we’re one big happy family again.”

Lassiter grabbed his hand and did something to it that made pain radiate up his arm. He yelped and pulled his arm back to cradle against his chest. “Enough with the pain already! I’m not into that sort of thing.”

Juliet shook her head. “I warned you to play nice Shawn.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away from his side. “Can you look over the case file again while Carlton and I talk to his coworkers?”

“Sure thing Jules.” The two detectives walked off, discussing which person to call in first. As he walked to Juliet’s desk to grab the casefile he yawned, almost stumbling over his own feet. Damn he was tired. He thought longingly of his warm, cozy bed at home, then shook his head. He could rest once the killer was caught.

He pushed aside the uncomfortable thought that he sounded exactly like Lassiter had earlier and went to get himself a cup of coffee. He had work to do.

* * *

Shawn stared at the file in front of him as he sipped his gajillionth cup of coffee of the day. He was hoping there was something in there he had missed or overlooked the past twenty or so times he had reviewed the file. It was unlikely but without any new leads they were at a dead end.

Pratt’s observations had unfortunately proven correct; Newton was a loner. Juliet had contacted Newton’s only remaining family yesterday; a brother currently out of town on a construction job. James Newton had said he hadn’t talked to his brother much in the past few months besides the occasional phone call or birthday card. Officers had checked out James’ residence anyway but there was no sign Newton had been there.

The only person who Newton regularly talked to at the college was Cooper and since Shawn couldn’t really talk to the dead that left them with a grand total of zero people who might have an insight into where Newton was going.

Newton would likely go to someone or somewhere he was familiar with but everything they had checked so far had led nowhere. Shawn knew there had to be a clue to where Newton had gone if only he could find it.

“Shawn!”

He looked up as Juliet walked excitedly over to his desk. “Did you find something?”

“One of the day shift workers at the bus station remembered selling a man matching Newton’s description a ticket yesterday,” Juliet said. “We checked the security cameras and receipts and were able to determine he bought a one way ticket to Santa Maria that left at 7:40 this morning.”

“He let himself get caught on camera?” Shawn was surprised that a guy like Newton hadn’t thought to disguise himself at a location that would definitely have security.

Juliet nodded. “He kept his head ducked and hood up while inside the station but we were able to get a clear look at his face when he bought the ticket.”

The whole thing didn’t sit right with Shawn. Why would Newton slip up at the exact time and place that would let the police know exactly where he was going? “I don’t like it. It feels like he’s sending us in the wrong direction to hide where he is really going.”

Juliet looked at him skeptically. “Do you have any proof?”

Shawn sighed. “No.”

“Well, since this is the only lead we have right now, we’re going to pursue it,” Juliet said.

“What about that cabin? The one in the picture at Newton’s house?” Shawn had done some digging earlier and found the old cabin Newton’s family had owned before money troubles had forced them to sell the property. “That looked like a pretty isolated spot to run off to.”

Juliet gave him a strange look. “A couple officers went up there this morning to check it out. I told you that already.”

Shawn frowned, struggling to remember when she had told him. He closed his eyes to help himself concentrate. That’s right, when he went to get his third cup of coffee. He had mentioned the cabin and she had told them they had checked and found it abandoned. Mystery solved, he found sitting with his eyes closed very relaxing. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave them shut a little longer, just while he thought of another place they could look.

“Shawn?”

His eyes snapped open. “I’m awake,” he said, sitting up quickly and almost knocking over the cup of coffee he forgot was still in his hand.

Juliet moved the coffee cup out of harm’s way and gently took his hand. “I think you should go home.”

Shawn shook his head. “Newton is still out there. He’s already killed once because he was found out; he could do it again. I need to figure out where he is going.” His sentence was cut off by a yawn wide enough to leave his jaw aching.

Juliet crouched down next to him and cupped his cheek with one hand. “You can barely keep your eyes open. You’re not going to be able to solve anything like this. Get some rest. Maybe once you’re recharged you’ll come up with something.”

Shawn leaned into her touch. “I don’t want to let you down,” he said softly.

Juliet smiled. “You’re not. Everyone needs to rest, Shawn, even you.” She rubbed her thumb gently against his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. “I’ll call Gus to come get you.”

He grabbed her hand before she pulled away. “You’ll call if you find out anything, right?”

“I promise.” She leaned down and pressed a light kiss against his lips before pulling out her phone and stepping away.

He rested his head on his hand and watched her, aware he had a sappy grin on his face but too tired to care. God, he was lucky to have found someone like her. It made it all the more important to solve this case. He would have Gus take him back to the Psych office and he could continue digging into Newton’s past from there.

He could also see if he could find out anything else to help him track down Nikki’s father. Newton’s case had priority right now but he still needed to find Nikki’s father before Monday.

He sighed heavily, aware of the enormity of what he still had to accomplish and just how tired he was. Later, once everything was solved, he could rest. Until then, he would just have to find a way to stay awake and hope he wouldn’t miss anything that would get someone else killed.


	13. A New Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. Between work being extra busy and preparing for Comic Con (which was totally awesome) I haven't had time to finish editing this chapter. I hope it is good enough to make up for the wait. 
> 
> I switched the beginning scene to Nikki's POV to give you a look at what's going on in her head and help explain her decisions later in the chapter.

Nikki climbed out of the pickup truck, holding the cup of coffee carefully so it wouldn’t spill. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Spencer.”

“I told you to call me Henry, and it was no problem.” Mr. Spencer nodded at the cup in her hand. “Tell Shawn to enjoy the coffee.”

“Um. . . ” She hadn’t told Mr. Spencer she had bought the coffee for Shawn but the ex-detective must have noticed she hadn’t drank from the cup. She didn’t know the Spencers well but she had noticed the tension between Shawn and his dad whenever the two of them were together. She hadn’t been sure if Mr. Spencer would have given her the money if she said it was for his son.

“If he’s not going to sleep, he should be awake enough to get some work done,” Mr. Spencer said. “Just try to convince Shawn to get some rest if he seems like he really needs it. I don’t want to hear he got into trouble because he was too tired to know better.”

“I’ll try,” Nikki promised.

Mr. Spencer nodded. “And don’t tell Shawn we had this talk. I don’t need him getting all girly or emotional.”

Nikki hid a smile. “Of course.” She closed the door of the truck and waved at Mr. Spencer as he pulled away. The two men had a very strange relationship. It was obvious they both cared about each other but neither one would admit it.

She shook her head as she crossed to the Psych office. Guys could be really weird sometimes.

“Hello?” she called out as she opened the door. “Shawn? Are you here?” She shut the door behind her and ventured further into the office. “Shawn?”

She found the psychic slumped over at his desk with his chin in his hand, staring at the far wall. She walked over to him and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey! Shawn!”

No response. This close she could see his eyes were nearly closed and he was breathing slow and even almost like he was asleep. She wasn’t sure if she could wake him (if he really was asleep) but it couldn’t be too comfortable sitting like that. He would get a crick in his neck or something.

“Shawn, I got you coffee,” she said, thrusting the cup into his face. Maybe the smell would help bring him out of his stupor. “Here.”

Shawn took a deep breath and blinked, eyes focusing on the cup in front of him. He glanced up at her then reached out to take the cup. He took a long sip and closed his eyes, sighing happily. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She frowned as he cradled the cup of coffee protectively against his chest. He seemed different than the energetic guy she had met a few days ago. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and the tired hunch to his shoulders. She crossed her arms and frowned. He looked more tired than he did last night. She wondered if he got any sleep at all.

Shawn took another sip of coffee and squinted at her. “You know, that’s really annoying.” The end of his sentence dissolved into a huge yawn.

“Late night?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “And an early morning.” He yawned again, rubbing his face. He looked up at Nikki, really looking at her for the first time since she had walked into the office. “How did you get here?”

“Your dad. He said he needed some supplies for a project and could drop me off on the way.” She hesitated, not sure how much more she should say. “He also gave me the money for the coffee. Said if you’re not going to sleep, at least you should be awake enough to get some work done.” That was more than Mr. Spencer probably wanted her to say but Shawn would wonder where she got the money from and she thought he might like to know his dad was looking out for him.

Apparently not. Shawn groaned, resting his head on the coffee cup. “You can tell my dad I’m fine,” he said without looking up. “And to quit worrying about me.”

This was really unfair. The only family she had was a dad who probably didn’t even know she existed. She was forced to rely on strangers to give her a place to stay and food to eat. She was even wearing one of Shawn’s old shirts, which Mr. Spencer had let her borrow since she didn’t have that many clothes with her. Meanwhile, Shawn had all these people in his life who cared about him and helped him out and all he did was complain about it.

She ducked her head so Shawn wouldn’t see how upset she was. “At least you know he cares,” she said quietly.

Shawn lifted his head, looking at her guiltily. “Nikki – ”

Gus walked into the office carrying two smoothies. He stopped short, frowning as he looked between her and Shawn.

Nikki forced a smile on her face. “Hi Gus.”

“Nikki.” Gus looked back at Shawn and sighed. “I thought we agreed no coffee.”

“Blame her,” Shawn said quickly, pointing at Nikki. “She gave it to me.”

_Snitch._ She narrowed her eyes at him. He stuck his tongue out at her.

Gus put down the smoothies on his own desk and walked over to Shawn. “Give me the coffee.”

“Nuh uh.” Shawn shook his head and clutched it closer to his chest.

Gus grabbed the cup and after a brief struggle (which Nikki was sure would end with Shawn covered in hot coffee) was able to wrench it from his grasp. Gus gave Shawn a disappointed look and shook his head. “You can’t blame Nikki. You’re an adult. You’re responsible for your own decisions.” He took the cup over to the sink and dumped it down the drain.

“It was my decision to drink the coffee,” Shawn muttered, scowling at Gus.

Nikki sighed and grabbed the bright yellow smoothie off Gus’ desk. She guessed this one was Shawn’s since she knew his favorite flavor was pineapple and the other was a mottled red. She placed it down in front of the sulking psychic. “Here. Stop whining.”

“I wasn’t whining,” Shawn whined. She gave him a look, which he pointedly ignored as he grabbed his smoothie. He took a sip and sighed happily. “Good old pineapple.” He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk with a groan. He sipped his smoothie and closed his eyes, looking worn out.

“Is he always like this when he’s tired?” she asked Gus, glancing worriedly at the other man.

“Pretty much,” Gus said with a sigh. He tossed the empty coffee cup in the trash and walked over to his desk. He sat down and took a drink of his own smoothie. “The more tired he is, the more infantile he becomes,” he said with a smirk.

“I call time out on the name calling,” Shawn said without opening his eyes. “At least until I’m awake enough to call them back.”

Gus gave her a look that said ‘see what I mean?’ She decided if Gus wasn’t too worried about his friend, she shouldn’t be either. So it was time to satisfy her curiosity.

She dragged a chair in front of Shawn’s desk. He opened his eyes as she sat down and crossed her arms. He raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“What happened after you left last night?” she asked eagerly. He winced and she lowered her voice. “Did you find out anything at the bus station?”

“Nothing,” Shawn said, half-heartedly covering a yawn. “Newton was long gone by the time we got there and none of the night shift workers remembered seeing him.”

“What about his car?”

Shawn shook his head. “Clean. Not so much as a candy wrapper. Nothing that would give us a clue where he is going.” He sounded frustrated. She guessed she would be too if she had been up all night with nothing to show for it.

“Okay, so last night didn’t go so well,” Nikki said. “How about this morning?”

Shawn sighed heavily. “Let’s see. It started with the Chief calling us in for a seven am interview with Pratt. The bastard insisted he had to come in that early so it wouldn’t disrupt the plans he had for later in the day.”

Nikki watched Shawn tiredly rub his face. “I’m guessing it didn’t go so well either,” she said slowly.

Shawn snorted. “If by ‘not well’ you mean almost ending in a lawsuit. Lassiter took a swing at Pratt and had to be dragged out of the room.” He rubbed his side. “He didn’t go easily either. His elbows are pointier than they look.” He slurped down the rest of his smoothie and sat up to place the empty cup on his desk. “We didn’t even get any useful information.”

“Lassiter really took a swing at Pratt?” She knew from Shawn’s stories that the detective had a temper but she was surprised he had gotten so violent. He hadn’t seemed like the type when she had met him at the crime scene.

“Yep,” Shawn said with a smirk. “I’m not the only one who suffers when they don’t get their beauty sleep.”

“Wow.” She shook her head, really glad she would never have to meet the guy who kept pissing off Shawn and his friends. It was too bad he wasn’t guilty; he sounded like a really horrible guy. “So I guess you guys are at a dead end, uh?”

“Not quite.” Shawn fiddled with the smoothie cup. “We got a call from the bus station a couple hours ago. One of the day shift ticket sellers remembered seeing Newton.” He tried to balance the cup on its edge and spin it with one finger. “Apparently he bought a ticket to Santa Maria.” The cup fell over and rolled off the edge of his desk.

Nikki chased after the cup and threw it in the trash. She sat back down in front of Shawn, thinking hard. “I don’t think he’s going to Santa Maria.”

“Me neither,” Shawn agreed. “But the police seemed convinced otherwise. Lassie and Jules are checking it out right now.”

“If you don’t think they are right, why are you here,” Nikki asked. “Why aren’t you out trying to track Newton down or convince them they’re wrong?”

“That’s why,” Gus said as Shawn yawned widely. “Juliet called me to come pick him up from the station. He was practically dead on his feet.” He looked pointedly at Shawn. “He’s been pushing himself too hard. She wanted him to get some rest.”

“I’m resting,” Shawn protested. “I had my feet up and everything.”

“She meant you need to sleep and you know it.”

“I don’t have time to sleep,” Shawn grumbled. “I need to figure out where Newton went.” His statement was punctuated by yet another yawn.

Nikki felt kind of bad for being one of the reasons Shawn was working so hard. Maybe she could do something to help him. “Well, does he have any family?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Gus said sternly.

“If he’s not going to sleep, we might as well help him,” she said to Gus. She turned back to Shawn. “Any siblings?”

“One brother,” Shawn said. “Jules checked him out yesterday before we found Newton’s car. He used to work for Mendorra Construction until they shut down. Now he’s working freelance on a job site up the coast. The cops already checked his place out just in case.”

“Wasn’t Mendorra the one working on that building on State Street?” Gus asked.

Shawn nodded. “They never found anyone to continue the project. It’s been abandoned ever since.” He yawned again, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Gus and Nikki exchanged a look. “Dude, maybe you should go lay down. You look exhausted,” Gus said carefully.

“I’m fine,” Shawn said irritably. He yawned again, leaning back in his chair and almost falling over.

“Nikki and I can do some digging while you get some rest,” Gus suggested. Nikki nodded in agreement.

“I said I’m fine,” Shawn snapped. Nikki glanced worriedly at Gus again. Shawn was looking really bad. As she watched he slumped over at his desk and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Shawn?” she asked softly. He looked up at her, blinking bloodshot eyes. “You really need to sleep. Even if it’s just for an hour.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He got up slowly, grabbing his phone. Nikki watched him carefully. He was leaning as he stood and she hoped he wouldn’t fall over. “Let me know when you find something.” He yawned again and stumbled to the back room.

She chewed her bottom lip, glancing at Gus. “Is it my fault he’s so tired?”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Not unless you were actually the one who killed Newton.”

Nikki sighed. “But maybe if he wasn’t working on my case too he wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Trust me, Shawn would be just as bad even if you weren’t here,” Gus said. “He gets like this on cases sometimes. He just would have thrown all his energy into Newton’s case instead of splitting his focus.”

“Then maybe he would have solved it already, if I wasn’t a distraction,” Nikki said.

Gus crossed his arms. “You know, I was against Shawn taking your case at first but now I can see why he wanted to help you. You both care too much about other people.”

“Thanks?” she said uncertainly.

Gus sighed. “If you really want to help him, then we need to figure out where Newton went.”

“I doubt we can come up with anything the police haven’t already thought about,” Nikki pointed out. “You went to Newton’s house. Was there anything there you think might help.”

“No, I – ” Gus stopped. “There was a picture on the wall that Shawn knocked down that showed Newton and his brother when they were kids at a cabin by a lake.”

“Sounds pretty isolated,” Nikki said. “It would be a good place to hide out. Could you tell where it was?”

“No.” Gus snapped his fingers. “But I might know a way to figure it out.” He opened his laptop and sat back down at his desk.

Nikki walked over to peer over his shoulder. “Can I help?”

“Yes. Your eyes are probably better than mine.” Gus pulled up a topographical map of the area. “Ready to get started?”

Glad to have something she could do to help, she nodded. “Tell me what to look for.”

* * *

 

His ringing cell phone woke Shawn up from an uneasy sleep. He grabbed it and peered bleary eyed at the screen. When he saw who it was, he cursed before answering. “What do you want, Dad?”

“And hello to you too,” Henry replied. “You got a minute?”

Shawn sighed loudly. He pulled the phone away from his head to look at it. Judging by the time, he had barely been asleep twenty minutes. He put the phone back to his ear. “Do I have a choice?” he asked sullenly.

“I'm replacing some of the old boards on the back porch. I need an extra set of hands.” It sounded more like an order than a request for help.

“I'm in the middle of a case right now,” he whined. “Can't you bother someone else?”

“I wasn't talking about you,” Henry said. “Nikki's still there, right?”

“Yeah, so?” he asked, brain still fuzzy with sleep.

“So it's time she starts earning her keep,” Henry explained. “I'll see you in ten minutes.” He hung up before Shawn could reply.

He groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. He considered going back to sleep and forgetting the entire conversation. But his dad would just call back, and keep calling until he got Nikki over there. With a sigh, he threw back the blankets and got up.

When they had first started Psych, Shawn had put an old army cot and some blankets in one of the back rooms. It gave him a place to crash if he was working on a case all night (or when he was between apartments, which had happened a couple of times in the early days). He had cleared off the cot by the simple process of dumping everything on the floor and was asleep almost before he had pulled a blanket over him. Now he climbed around the scattered boxes, vowing to have Gus clean it up later, and headed out to the front room.

Gus was sitting at his desk, doing something on his laptop. Nikki was behind him peering over his shoulder. “What about this one?” Nikki said, pointing at the screen.

Gus shook his head. “None of these houses have the right view of the lake.” He looked up as Shawn entered the room. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” Shawn said irritably. He held up his phone. “My dad called. He wants help on some project of his.”

“Tell him we're busy with a case,” Gus said.

“He doesn't want us.” Shawn came around to look over Gus's other shoulder. On the screen was a topical map of Santa Barbara and the surrounding areas. “What are you doing?”

“I remembered that picture in Newton's house, the one we knocked over,” Gus said, looking at him. Shawn nodded. “Well, there was a cabin in the background. I'm trying to find it.”

“It's a dead end,” Shawn said. “The family sold it ten years ago. The police sent someone to check it out already. The place looked abandoned.”

“Oh.” Gus closed his laptop and gave Shawn a disgruntled look. “It would have been nice to know that earlier.”

“You didn't ask,” Shawn pointed out.

Gus sighed in defeat. “So why did your dad call, if he doesn't want our help?” he asked, returning to the previous topic.

“He wants Nikki's help.” Shawn turned to Nikki with a grin. “Something about earning her keep.”

Nikki sighed. “I guess I don't have a choice, huh?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, glad it wasn't him helping out for once. He rolled his eyes at her disappointed expression. “Relax. It won't be that bad.”

“I'd rather stay and help you find Newton,” she said, frowning.

Shawn took pity on her. It wasn't easy working with his father, after all. “Alright, here's what you do. Pretend you have no idea what you are doing. Make him show you how to do everything. Wait until he gets really focused on the job, then say you have to use the bathroom. You can sneak off for a good thirty minutes, sometime up to an hour.” Her expression brightened as he explained the plan. “But remember, you can only use the bathroom trick once per project, so choose your time wisely.”

“Thanks, I'll remember that,” she said, brightening considerably.

Gus glared at him. “Is that how I keep getting stuck doing all the work whenever we're helping your dad out?”

He winced. “It's not going to work anymore, is it?”

“Shawn,” Gus said sternly.

“Okay, okay,” he said placatingly. “I promise: no more sticking Gus with all the work.”

Gus looked slightly mollified at the statement. “When does your dad want us over there?” he asked.

He checked his phone. “About now.” He looked at his two companions. “We should probably get going.”

“OK,” Nikki said. She looked slyly at Shawn. “Shotgun!” she called, before racing out the door.

“That's not fair!” he complained, chasing after her. “I'm the psychic. You're the apprentice. My senior status automatically gives me shotgun.”

Nikki grinned at him from next to the front door of the Blueberry. “Are you saying you're old?”

Shawn gaped at her. “Gus,” he whined, turning to his best friend to back him up. “Tell her she's not playing fair and I'm not old.”

Gus looked between the two of them. “If she's really your apprentice, then she needs to learn when to call 'shotgun.' Think of it as a learning exercise.”

“See?” Nikki said triumphantly, getting into the front seat of the car.

Shawn glared at both of them. “Fine. But I'm not old.” He scrunched himself in the back seat, slamming the door shut.

“Don't slam the door,” Gus said, getting into the car himself. “You're acting like a five year old.”

“It's better than being old,” Shawn muttered. He rested his head against the window, ignoring the other two as Gus headed for his dad's house.

* * *

Shawn walked into his father's house, Nikki behind him. “Dad! We're here!”

“You're late,” Henry said, entering the kitchen. “I expected you fifteen minutes ago.” He was dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and an old t-shirt (thankfully not one of his usually eye-watering designs).

“Gus got stuck in the little boy's room.” Shawn sighed and shook his head. “I told him those burritos looked funky.”

Henry crossed his arms and looked disapprovingly at him. “You're thirty-six years old, Shawn. You shouldn't be relying on your friend to drive you everywhere.”

“Did you want me to drive Nikki over here on my motorcycle?” he asked sarcastically. “Because that seems just a little irresponsible.” He normally didn't let his dad get under his skin, at least not this quickly, but he was too tired to play nice and take his father's crap today.

“Irresponsible?” Henry snorted. “That's rich, coming from you. You haven't been responsible a day in your life.”

“Hey, I run a business,” Shawn said, insulted and feeling his temper start to rise. “I've been responsible loads of times.”

Henry snorted. “Like when you got arrested looking for treasure with Jack? Or when you were part of that 'think tank' and ended up responsible for an assassination attempt?”

“First off, you were arrested right along with us and we found the treasure in the end, which cancels out anything bad that happened.” Henry looked like he wanted to argue that point but Shawn pressed on before he could. “As for the think tank, I wasn't the only one duped and we caught the bad guy in the end, which is what matters.”

“So the ends justify the means, huh?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes. “What about when you ran off without backup snooping where you didn't belong and got yourself shot? You got the bad guy, so no harm, right?”

Shawn inhaled sharply. What happened still gave him nightmares sometimes and for his father to use it against him was a low blow. Well, two could play at that game. “How about when you got shot? I seem to remember I was the one who got the guy and you didn't seem to care how I went about it then,” he snapped angrily. He glared at his father who crossed is arms and glared right back. It was shaping up to be a no holds barred, mano a mano staring contest until movement out of the corner of Shawn’s eye distracted him.

Nikki was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the two of them nervously. Shawn had gotten so caught up in his argument he had forgotten she was standing there. He took a deep breath and pushed his anger aside, not wanting to make Nikki anymore uncomfortable than she already was.

“You're right, I'm irresponsible,” Shawn said, earning a surprised look from Henry. “So let's just drop it.” He glanced at Nikki, than back at Henry. His father followed his gaze, taking in Nikki's discomfort with the situation.

“Fair enough,” Henry said. He turned to Nikki. “Sorry about that. My son and I don't get along well at the best of times.”

“It's okay,” Nikki said quietly.

“Why don't you go upstairs and change?” Henry said gently. “I'll meet you out back to show you what we'll be doing.”

“OK,” she said, sounding relieved. She glanced at Shawn before quickly crossing the kitchen and heading up the stairs.

Shawn rubbed his temples, feeling his headache coming back. He noticed his father watching him. “I'm fine,” he said, hopping to forestall a lecture.

Henry left the room. Before Shawn had time to wonder what he was doing, he came back with a bottle of Advil. “Here,” Henry said, throwing it to him.

Shawn fumbled the bottle and nearly dropped it. Henry filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of him. “Thanks,” he said gratefully. He opened the bottle and popped out a couple of pills. He tossed them back along with the entire glass of water. Putting the glass down, he leaned on the counter, hoping they worked quickly.

Henry was still watching him closely. “I'm not going to tell you to take it easy or get some rest,” he said after a moment. “You're too much like me. You won't rest until the case is done.” He leaned against the counter next to Shawn. “But if you wear yourself out, you won't be any good to the police. Or Nikki.”

Shawn turned his head to look at his father. He was surprised by the concern he could see on Henry's face. With all the fighting, sometimes he forgot how much his dad cared about him. “I'll keep that in mind.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I got to go. Gus is waiting outside and I have a killer to catch.”

“Be careful,” Henry said gruffly.

Shawn grinned. “Life's no fun if you're careful.” Henry snorted as he opened the door and walked outside.

“Make sure you eat something,” Henry called after him.

Shawn shook his head, pulling the door closed behind him. Worried Henry was almost as bad as mad Henry. At least mad Henry he knew how to deal with. He went over to the car and got inside.

“How'd it go?” Gus asked.

“Could have been worse,” he said, buckling his seatbelt. He pulled out his phone and groaned when he looked at the blank screen.

“What's wrong?” Gus asked.

“My phone died,” Shawn said. “Between all the running around last night and this morning, I must have forgotten to charge it again.” He had broken the charger at the office, so he would have to get the one at the house. He hoped he hadn't missed any calls. “Can we swing by my place to pick up the charger?”

“Sure,” Gus said. “But only if we can also stop to pick up something to eat. I'm starving.”

“Deal.” Shawn closed his eyes against the bright sunlight as Gus pulled out of the driveway. He yawned, feeling drowsy. “Wake me when we get there.” He settled back comfortably in the seat, dozing off before Gus made it down the street.

* * *

The first thing Shawn did when he got back to the office, after tripping over the pile of mail by the door, was plug in his phone. He sat at his desk, tapping his foot as he waited for the phone to boot up. Gus collected the scattered bits of mail and brought it over to his own desk.

The phone beeped at him. **One new voicemail** showed up on the screen. The number attached was for the PI in Denver. “Damn it.” He pressed the button to retrieve the message. Of course the guy would call the one time he didn't have his phone on.

Gus looked up from sorting the mail. “What is it?”

“I missed the call from the PI,” he said with a sigh. Gus shook his head in sympathy. Shawn queued up the message. “But he left a voicemail.” He put the phone on speaker before hitting play.

“Hello Mr. Spencer,” the PI said. He had a slightly raspy voice and Shawn immediately pictured one of those classic noir detectives, complete with trench coat and fedora, sitting in a shadowy office. He almost expected jazz music to start playing in the background. “You called asking for information about Nicole Peterson's father. Interesting case. I have a name for you, but I would rather not leave it in a message. Let's say it's a complicated situation.” He chuckled to himself. Shawn and Gus exchanged a look. “I'll be out of the office the rest of the day. I should be back by noon tomorrow. If you want the information, you can call me then.” He left his phone number. “Good luck with the child.”

“I hope it's not too complicated a situation, for Nikki's sake,” Gus said. He went back to sorting the mail.

“Me too,” Shawn said, staring at his phone. The entire message had seemed a little weird. Like the detective was hiding something he found amusing in some way. There was also the way he ended the message. ' _Good luck with the child._ ' The phrasing of it struck Shawn as a little odd.

“Hey Shawn,” Gus said, interrupting his thoughts. “What hospital was Nikki's mom admitted to?”

“University of Colorado Hospital.” He looked up from his phone “Why?”

Gus held up an envelope. “Someone from the hospital sent you this letter.” He walked over and handed it to Shawn.

He put down his phone and grabbed the envelope from Gus. It was indeed from U of C Hospital. “Weird. I didn't use my real name when I talked to that nurse.” He looked at the return address. He didn't recognize the person listed.

“Well?” Gus said impatiently after Shawn spent a minute examining the outside. “Aren't you going to open it?”

“Patience, Gus.” He looked the envelope over one more time before carefully ripping it open. Inside was a folded piece of paper and what looked like a photograph. He was about to remove the contents when his phone started ringing. Glancing at it, he saw 'Papa Bear' on the screen.

“What does he want now?” he grumbled. He picked up the phone with his free hand and answered it. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

“Where have you been?” Henry asked anxiously. “I've been trying to call you for the last half hour.”

“My phone died. We stopped to pick up my charger and get some food.” He looked up at Gus worriedly. His dad wasn't one to overreact. “Why, did something happen?”

“Nikki's gone.”

He dropped the envelope on the desk. “What do you mean, she's gone?” he asked, almost shouting into the phone. He put the phone on speaker as Gus came over to stand next to him.

“She went inside to get a drink,” Henry said, voice distorted over the phone. “When I noticed how long she had been gone, I went in to look for her. I figured she was trying to ditch work, like you always did.” Shawn let the dig slide, too worried about Nikki. “I found a note on her bed next to a map of Santa Barbara and a couple of old newspapers.”

“What did the note say?” he asked urgently.

Henry cleared his throat. “' _Police wrong. Newton's still in town. Be back later._ '” There was the sound of paper rustling. “On the back is a note to you. ' _Shawn, I think it has to do with Newton’s brother._ ' Do you have any idea what this means?”

“I'm not sure,” Shawn said slowly. It sounded like Nikki had figured out where Newton was hiding and had gone to check it out. He'd be impressed if he wasn't so worried. Newton had proved he was willing to kill to avoid getting caught. “Don't worry, I'll find her.”

“You'd better,” his dad said. “You got her involved in this case. It's on your head if anything happens to her.” He hung up before Shawn could reply.

Shawn threw his phone on his desk. “Why didn't she just say something?” he asked Gus. “Why did she have to run off after him?” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Why don't you ask yourself the same question?” Gus said. “You do it all the time.”

“That's different,” he snapped. He started pacing in front of his desk. “The police think I'm psychic. So I have to know things I shouldn't to keep them believing that.” He glared at Gus. “I don't just run off into a dangerous situation completely unprepared without telling anyone!”

“Really?” Gus asked sarcastically. Shawn gave him a murderous glare, causing Gus to put up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, not helping.”

Shawn continued to pace, trying to get his tired mind to focus. If this was how everyone felt whenever he ran off after a lead into potential danger, no wonder they were always so mad at him. This really sucked. “I just don't understand what she was thinking,” he muttered.

Gus pulled him to a stop, forcing Shawn to look at him. “I do. She feels guilty.”

Shawn blinked. “What?”

“She can see how hard you’ve been pushing yourself working both her case and Newton’s. She’s trying to help you.”

Shawn huffed. “She could have just told me where she thinks Newton is.”

“Maybe she didn’t want you winding up with another dead end because of her.” Gus gave Shawn a look. “You certainly complained enough when that happened last night.”

Shawn sighed. He had to run across the one teenager who wasn't self-centered and actually cared about other people. “I guess I can understand that. It doesn't help us figure out where she went though.”

“What about the clue?” Gus looked at expectantly at Shawn. “What do we know about the brother?”

“James Newton, 32. Lives over in Summerland.” Shawn said, reciting the info he knew about the brother. “Worked for Mendorra construction. Now works freelance.” He stopped as something clicked in his mind. “Didn't you say Mendorra abandoned a project on State Street?”

“Yes, the half-finished building,” Gus said. He went to his desk and pulled out a map of Santa Barbara. Shawn came over as he unfolded the map. “Here.”

Shawn studied the map closely. “That's not too far from the bus station where we found Newton's car.” He looked up at Gus. “Certainly within walking distance.” It was a long shot, but it was the best lead they had.

“You think that's where he's hiding?” Gus asked uncertainly.

“I'm pretty sure Nikki does,” Shawn said, getting excited. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. “Newton's smart. We assumed he would run, so the safest thing for him to do is stay in town.” He pointed to the map. “That building is empty and we would never think to connect it with him. It's perfect.”

“Then let's go,” Gus said.

Shawn paused just long enough to grab his phone off his desk before running out the door.


	14. The Mad Scientist's Lair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so late. I've been getting really bad migraines the last few weeks that have made it impossible to concentrate on anything. I'm trying to get as much done on headache free days as possible so hopefully the next chapter won't be so delayed.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the story.

The sun was setting when they arrived at the abandoned building. It was already hidden behind the surrounding structures, the entire area cast into shadow. From what they could see, most of the first floor appeared finished, minus doors and windows. The second and third stories were just framework in the open air. With the light growing dimmer by the minute, the setting was eerily similar to half the slasher films Shawn had seen.

Shawn and Gus sat in the car, staring at the building. “Creepy,” Gus said with a shiver.

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed. A missing girl in a building with a murderer. Two guys going in, unprepared, to find her. Yup, this had horror movie written all over it. He hoped it didn't end up like one. He shook his head to dispel that train of thought and turned to Gus. “Well, it's not going to get any less slasher movie-e. Shall we?”

Gus stopped him before he could get out of the car. “Shouldn't we call the police first?” he asked worriedly.

Shawn shook his head. “Not until we find Nikki. The police can't know she was here.” He climbed out of the car before Gus could protest further.

They headed across the lot and cautiously entered the building through one of the open doorways. Inside it was already dark, the fading sunlight unable to penetrate this far. They stopped just inside the doorway, peering into the blackness.

He nudged Gus. “Dude, go get your flashlight out of the car.”

“I can't,” Gus said, turning to him. “You took it out of the glove compartment to make room for your candy.”

“Sometimes I need a sugar boost while working on a case,” he said defensively.

Gus rolled his eyes. “Didn't you download one of those flashlight apps to your phone?”

“I did,” he said excitedly, patting Gus on the back. He pulled out his phone and quickly found the app. He tapped it and a bright light immediately shone from the phone. After a couple seconds his phone beeped and the light blinked off. “Guess I needed to charge it more,” he said, staring at the blank screen. “What about your phone?”

Gus sighed but pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the app.

Shawn immediately grabbed the phone and waved it around, illuminating patches of the room. “Cool,” he said, grinning.

Gus grabbed his arm, pointing the light towards the ground. “Are you trying to signal to Newton we're here?” he hissed.

Shawn winced. “Good point.” He dimmed the light and angled the phone so it shone on the ground in front of them. They had just enough light to see where they were going. “Ready?”

“I'll be ready once you give me my phone back,” Gus said.

“If you have the phone, you'll have to go first into the creepy building where a murderer is hiding.”

Gus scowled at him. “Fine. Just be careful with it. It's a company phone.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and led the way deeper into the building.

The rooms near the front were the most complete. The further back they went, the more debris and building supplies they saw. Eventually they reached an open space near the center of the building. Shawn turned up the brightness on his phone and shone it around. The area was piled high with a maze of old dry wall, lumber, and extra support beams.

Gus suddenly grabbed his arm. “Did you hear that?”

Shawn listened carefully for a moment. “Hear what?”

“Sshhhh!” Gus hissed. “Don't talk so loud.”

“I don't hear anything,” Shawn hissed back.

“I thought I heard something over there,” Gus said, pointing to their right. Shawn started to head in that direction but Gus stopped him. “What if it's Newton?” he asked fearfully.

“What if it's Nikki?” Shawn countered. He shook off Gus's hand and carefully started making his way towards the right side of the room. He was halfway there when he heard a loud clang behind him. Whipping around, he saw Gus standing on one leg, holding his foot. “Dude, keep it down,” he said, trying not to sound like his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest.

“I tripped,” Gus hissed. They froze as they heard a scuffling noise ahead of them. “That's what I heard before,” Gus said, voice barely audible.

Shawn motioned Gus to be quiet and moved closer to investigate. He slipped between two piles of lumber, slowly approaching where the noise was coming from. Suddenly a dark shape darted in front of him. He fell back with a yelp, bringing the light up. He was just able to make out a small furry form, with a masked face and ringed tail, before it scampered off into the darkness.

He sighed in relief, glad for once it had been one of the masked demons. “Just a raccoon,” he whispered to Gus, peering after it. He got no reply. “Gus?” He turned around.

No Gus.

He retraced his steps back to where Gus had tripped. “Gus?” he called again, a little louder. Still no reply. “Where are you?” he muttered to himself, starting to get worried. Maybe they should have called for backup. Hoping Gus had just gotten turned around in the dark, he turned the brightness on the phone up to maximum and raised it above his head.

Just as he was wondering if it was a smart idea to signal his position with a killer on the loose, he sensed someone behind him. Before he could turn around, something hit him hard on the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor, sharp spikes of agony ripping through his skull. The cell phone spun away, light still shining. He was vaguely aware of someone walking towards him. _Definitely should have called for backup_ he had time to think before he lost consciousness.

* * *

First, there was pain. He couldn’t tell what part of his body hurt, or if he even had a body. All he was aware of was the pain. He wished desperately it would go away or he could go back to wherever he had been before where it didn’t hurt so much.

Slowly, after what felt like years, the pain receded enough that other sensations could make it through to his brain. He was sitting slouched over on a hard, dry surface with his back against something cool and metallic. His legs were splayed out in front of him. His arms were bent back behind the metal object and his hands were secured with something rough.

His head was still throbbing and his shoulders were sore from the position he was sitting in. Nothing seemed life threatening but he didn’t plan on moving any time soon.

He heard noises to his left. Harsh breathing, and a scraping sound as something moved. Someone else was there. Friend or foe? His head was still fuzzy so he was having trouble remembering exactly what had happened. He pushed at the fog blocking his memories, ignoring the way it made his head throb more.

He had been looking for someone. Gus? Yes, and but not just him. There had been someone else. Someone just as important.

The fog suddenly lifted and his memory came in a rush.

Nikki.

An abandoned building.

Gus going missing.

Someone behind him, horrible pain, then blackness.

Shawn opened his eyes and groaned as a blinding light sent sharp spikes of pain through his head. He squeezed them shut again, contemplating living in darkness for the rest of his life. It would be hard, but manageable. Blind people do it all the time; he would just be living that way voluntarily.

The sounds to his left stopped. “Shawn?” He recognized Gus' voice. That answered one question at least. “Shawn? Can you hear me?”

He winced as Gus's loud voice caused his head to throb harder. “Dude, not so loud,” he said, voice raspy. Deciding that the blind life was not for him, (how would he watch movies?) he tried opening his eyes again. This time the light was not so intense. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted and he got his first glimpse of the space they were in. The light was coming from a small electric lantern sitting on a barrel about ten feet away. It lit up piles of lumber and old girders, leading him to believe they were still somewhere in that large central room. He looked up, wincing as the movement sent sharp pains through his head, and saw his arms were tied around one of the support beams for the floor above.

“Shawn?”

Turning his head carefully to the left, he saw Gus similarly tied up at the next beam over. Gus sighed in relief. “I was getting worried. You were unconscious for a long time.” He looked over Shawn with concern. “Are you okay?”

He laughed, then winced as the combination of sound and movement increased the throbbing in his head. “Let's see, someone snuck up on me, knocked me out, then tied me to a pillar.” He grinned wryly at Gus. “Yeah, I'm peachy.” He looked more closely at Gus's face. He had a nasty bruise forming over his right eye and a split lip. “You look like you've been in a fight. Did you put up a valiant yet fruitless struggle against our captor?”

“Not exactly.” Gus looked embarrassed. “I heard something and tripped running away. Newton grabbed me while I was laying stunned on the ground.”

Newton. Shawn had forgotten about him. He looked around the space, but didn't see any sign of another person. “Where is he?”

“I don't know. He said something about checking the perimeter. That was a few minutes before you woke up.”

“Then we'd better hurry up and escape.” Shawn started tugging on the rope binding his hands. If it was loose enough, maybe he could wriggle his hands free. Unfortunately, whoever had tied the ropes seemed to be an expert. There wasn't an inch of slack and the knots were nice and tight. “Hey Gus. Do you still have your phone?”

“Even if I did, how exactly would you propose I use it?” Gus asked. He moved his arms, reminding Shawn of his own bound hands.

“Good point.” Shawn racked his brain, but for the moment was drawing a blank. The two sat there quietly, waiting for something to happen. “Hey Gus?” he asked after a couple minutes.

Gus sighed. “Yes Shawn?”

“I have to pee.”

Gus glared at him. “If Newton doesn't kill you, I will.”

“He already tried once, what makes you think you'd do any better?” he asked challengingly.

“I've known you longer,” Gus said smugly. “I know your weaknesses. All I would need was a poisoned smoothie.”

He gasped. “Sacrilege!”

Gus grinned. “And that's why I would succeed.” His smile faded as his look turned more serious. “Besides, Newton wouldn't have gone through the trouble of tying us up if he wanted us dead. It wouldn't make sense to waste the time or the energy.”

“You are correct Mr. Guster.”

Shawn turned his head. While he and Gus had been arguing, Newton had appeared from the surrounding maze and was walking towards them. He stopped next to the barrel, the light illuminating only half his face and giving him a sinister look. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” He studied them carefully, like they were lab specimens he was planning to dissect. “I see Mr. Spencer has finally woken up.”

“Are you the manager?” Shawn asked. “Because I must lodge a complaint. These accommodations are simply awful and the service leaves much to be desired.” He could never resist messing with the bad guys. If it threw them off their game, all the better.

Newton just looked at him blankly. “I may have inadvertently used too much force hitting you on the head. It appears I caused brain damage.”

“He always talks like that,” Gus said quickly. “Don't antagonize our captor Shawn,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I know what I'm doing,” Shawn muttered back. “I've done this before.”

“And every time the police showed up and rescued us,” Gus pointed out. “What's the plan now?”

“I'm improvising,” Shawn said. “If we just had our phones. . . “

“I can hear everything you are saying,” Newton said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “I'm only 3.17 meters away.”

Shawn looked at him blankly. “That's 10.4 feet,” Newton explained with a sigh. “As to the cell phones. . .” He picked them up from the barrel and showed them to Shawn and Gus. “I already disabled them.” The screen on Shawn's phone had been smashed in but Gus' appeared intact, minus the battery. Shawn wondered if his insurance covered damage caused by insane killers.

Newton put the phones down and pulled something from his pocket. Shawn had enough time to realize it was the battery from Gus' phone before Newton tossed it off into the room. “Now there is no way for you to use the phone without recovering both pieces, which I see as highly unlikely.”

Shawn followed its path with his eyes, making a note of where they landed. “That seemed a little unnecessary,” he said when Newton's attention was back on them. “You smashed my phone, why not smash Gus' as well?”

“He didn't mean that,” Gus said quickly. He glared at him. “It's a company phone, Shawn. That means I have to pay for any damages to it. It's bad enough I have to replace the battery now.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it when the room spun sickeningly. He swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. “Dude, I think we have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Mr. Spencer is correct,” Newton said. “However, it is an intelligent question so I will answer it. I obviously can't use my own phone anymore. Mr. Guster's phone is a common model. It will not be hard to get a replacement sim card or battery.”

“Why not use a burner phone?” Shawn asked.

Newton shook his head. “The police will be watching any sales for those phones in and around the city. This they will not expect.” He went back over to the barrel and picked something up.

Shawn was momentarily distracted by movement near where the battery had landed. It was probably just an animal but Nikki was still out there somewhere. Maybe she was close enough to see what was happening.

“I had hoped to avoid this,” Newton said. “But you are proving to be more intelligent than I original expected.” Gus gasped and Shawn refocused on Newton.

The thing he had picked up from the barrel was a gun. “Really? A gun?” Shawn asked. “You're a scientist. Shouldn't it be some kind of death ray or other weird gadget?” He looked at Newton with disappointment. “You're ruining the image of evil scientists everywhere.”

“Shut up, Shawn,” Gus hissed.

“I'm not evil,” Newton insisted. “I was justified in what I did.”

Shawn saw movement around the nearest pile of lumber. There was a flash of brown hair as someone peeked around the pile. “That's right,” he said, earning him a surprised look from Gus. “Sanders stole your work.” He needed to get Newton talking, keep his attention away from that pile.

“I spent years working on that research,” Newton said, moving closer to Shawn. “Years of work in the lab, spending my nights and weekends experimenting. Years of making sure my work was absolutely perfect. And for what? So some two-bit hack, jealous of my brilliance, can steal my masterpieces and claim them for his own.” Newton's face was flush with anger and he was breathing hard. The distraction was working better than Shawn had hoped. He definitely had Newton's full attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nikki cautiously peeking around the lumber again. He met her gaze and tried to direct her attention towards the barrel.

“What are you looking at?” Newton asked suddenly. He turned to look behind him as Nikki ducked back behind the pile.

“Nothing,” Shawn said quickly, causing Newton to turn back towards him. “There is absolutely nothing there. Right Gus?”

“Right,” Gus agreed, giving him a quick, worried look. He had seen Nikki too. “I certainly didn't see anything.”

“I should check just to make sure,” Newton said. He turned and started walking towards Nikki's hiding place.

Shawn and Gus exchanged a panicked glance. “Stealing your work must have made you mad.” Gus said desperately.

Newton paused. Shawn jumped at the hesitation. “Not just mad, vengeful. Sanders was wrong and nobody stopped him.” There was an anxious moment where Shawn wasn't sure if Newton would take the bait. He breathed a sigh of relief when Newton turned back towards them. Luckily, he appeared to be the type of villain who liked to explain his plan to his victims. Shawn was glad Santa Barbara seemed to have an unusually large number of these chatty bad guys.

“I tried going through the proper channels,” Newton said. “But it was his word against mine and Sanders had friends on the review board. I didn't have a chance.” He walked back towards Shawn. “You see why I had to kill him. I had no choice.” He stopped in front of Shawn, looking at him intently. “You understand, right?” The hand holding the gun was trembling slightly.

“No choice at all,” Shawn agreed. Newton was starting to get too emotional now. He better tread carefully. “The way you did it was brilliant. I mean, sabotaging the experiment to make it look like an accident? Pure genius.”

“That was easy,” Newton said dismissively. “It was pinning it on Pratt that was the tricky part.”

“How did you accomplish that?” Gus asked, drawing Newton's attention towards him.

“First I had to steal glassware from Pratt's lab, so it had his fingerprints on it,” Newton said, moving closer to Gus. He started going into detail how he staged Sanders' death and Pratt's downfall.

Shawn meanwhile watched Nikki's hiding place. She peeked around the pile, studying the situation carefully. He met her gaze and nodded. She slowly stepped out into the open and made her way towards the barrel. Gus kept Newton talking, keeping his attention away from Nikki. She was almost there when her foot scuffed against the dirt on the floor. She immediately dropped down behind the barrel, using it as cover.

“What was that?” Newton asked, glancing over.

“Rats?” Gus said hesitantly.

Newton didn't look convinced. He moved towards the barrel, gun held out in front of him. Shawn held his breath, praying he didn't see Nikki. As he moved past the barrel, Nikki twisted to make sure it stayed between the two of them, keeping her hidden. Apparently satisfied no one was there, he walked back towards them.

Shawn let out his breath slowly. That was too close.

Newton frowned at the two of them. “You both seem tense.”

Shawn made a conscious effort to appear more relaxed. “Just anxious to hear more of your brilliance.” Newton did not look convinced. “Tell us about Cooper,” he asked quickly, trying to distract him.

Newton sighed. “Cooper was an unfortunate complication. He had seen me taking glassware from Pratt's lab the day before the accident. He confronted me while I was planting evidence for the police to find.”

That explained why Cooper was killed in Pratt's lab. “Go on,” Shawn encouraged. He saw Nikki reach carefully over the top of the barrel and grab Gus' phone. Mission accomplished, she started making her way silently back to the safety of the lumber pile.

“I thought dumping the body far from the school would buy me enough time to get out of town.” Newton looked accusingly at Shawn. “I did not expect such a quick identification. I barely had enough time to put my plan into action.”

“My bad,” Shawn said, tracking Nikki's progress out of the corner of his eye. He just needed to keep Newton talking a little bit longer; Nikki was just a few steps away from safety. At that moment, she tripped. She caught herself before she fell, but the noise attracted Newton's attention. She dived for the lumber pile but was just a bit too slow.

“There _is_ someone here!” Newton shouted. He walked quickly over to the barrel, cursing when he noticed the missing cell phone. He turned to glare at Shawn and Gus. “Who is she?” he asked, pointing his gun at Shawn.

“No one,” Shawn said quickly. “Probably just some homeless kid looking for food.” Gus nodded frantically, eyes darting worriedly between the gun and Shawn.

Newton didn't appear to believe them. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “She took the phone. She might have the battery. I need to go after for her.” He spoke to himself, as if Shawn and Gus weren't even there. He chocked the gun, earning a frightened yelp from Gus. He glanced briefly at them. “I'll be back as soon as I take care of this complication.”

“Wait! Don't you think you may be overreacting?” Shawn asked, tugging on his bonds futily. “Newton!”

Newton ignored him and kept walking out into the maze after Nikki.

* * *

Lassiter fought to keep his eyes open as he drove down the dark streets. After a night with no sleep and the disastrous interview with Pratt, he thought they had finally caught a break with the bus ticket. He and O’Hara had driven the hour out to Lompoc to talk to the bus driver of the route Newton bought the ticket for. However, the driver had never seen Newton and the security cameras on the bus collaborated his story. Newton had never boarded the bus. He had wasted the whole damn day on a dead end.

He glanced over at his partner. O'Hara was leaning against the window, staring sleepily at the scenery at it went by. The street lights flickered across her face, the shadows hiding the dark circles under her eyes. It had been a hard few days for both of them. And what did they have to show for it?

Nothing.

He took the exit off the 101 for State St. Maybe he would swing by the bus station again and see if they had missed anything.

O'Hara glanced at the clock. “It's later than I thought. I should probably call Shawn before he starts to worry.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing. “Hi honey, sorry I'm running late. I'm on my way back into town and should be at the station in twenty minutes. Love you.” She hung up and frowned down at the phone.

“Something wrong?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“It went straight to voicemail. Shawn never shuts his phone off during a case.” He could hear the worry starting to creep into her voice.

“Maybe he forgot to charge it again,” he said logically. He had learned to trust her instincts in most matters, but her feelings for Spencer tended to cloud her judgment. “I'm sure he's fine.”

She sighed. “You're probably right.” She turned back to stare out the window, still frowning.

Lassiter looked back to the road. O'Hara had been worried about Spencer lately, saying he was pushing himself too hard. Lassiter had hoped this would mean she would convince Spencer to drop the case. It would have been nice to work without the interference. But Spencer was like a terrier; once he got his teeth in something, he wouldn't let go. It was what put him at odds with Spencer so often. Spencer would solve even the toughest cases in record time, leaving the police to play catch up. He had hoped to beat Spencer this time, but with the bus ticket being a bust and no other leads, it wasn't looking likely. Spencer had probably found Newton already.

His phone started ringing. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered darkly. When he glanced at the phone, he was surprised to see it was Guster calling. “That's strange,” he said slowly. He could count on one hand the number of times Guster had called him during a case.

He could feel O’Hara’s worry starting to infect him and he did his best to squash it. Maybe Spencer couldn't use his own phone so he had borrowed Guster's. That made sense. No need to get worked up over nothing. He pulled over into the next empty parking lot to take the call.

“What's strange?” O'Hara asked. She leaned over to look at his phone. “Why is Gus calling you?” She looked up at him worriedly.

“Let's find out.” He picked up the phone and answered it. “Lassiter.”

There was a brief pause before someone spoke. “You have to get to the abandoned building on State Street right away.” The voice was that of a young female, definitely not Guster. It sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn't place where he had heard it before.

“Who is this?” he asked sharply. “How did you get this phone?” He could see panic starting to form in O'Hara's eyes. He turned away, trying to ignore his own growing concern and focus on the call.

“That's not important,” the voice said impatiently. “Newton's here and – ” The voice cut off as a loud bang echoed through the phone.

Lassiter tensed. He knew the sound of a gunshot when he heard one. He went into cop mode, pushing his personal feelings aside. He needed to gather as much information about what was happening as he could. “Where in the building?”

“A large open room filled with supplies,” the voice whispered. She sounded scared. Most people were when they were getting shot at. “It's not just him. He has Shawn and Gus tied up on the right side of the room.”

He cursed. Of course Spencer was there. Find a mad man with a gun, firing at people, and the psychic was bound to be close by. “What's Newton doing now?”

“Looking for me.” He heard the sound of something scraping on a rough surface. “I think he's close.” She was starting to panic. He needed to calm her down and keep her focused on him.

“Don't move,” he said, keeping his voice steady. He popped the car into gear and pulled back onto the road, flicking on his lights and sirens. “We're about five minutes out. I want you to stay put. Don't draw attention to yourself.”

“OK – ” He heard another bang followed by a cry of pain before the line went dead.

“Shit!” Driving one handed, he tried calling Guster's phone. It went straight to voicemail. He dropped the phone and grabbed the radio. “Car 42 to dispatch.”

“This is dispatch. Go ahead Car 42.”

“We're heading to the abandoned building on State Street. Newton has been sighted in the area. Reports of gunfire.” Lassiter glanced at O'Hara before continuing. “He may have hostages.” He saw her freeze at his words. “Requesting backup. Over.”

“Dispatch to Car 42. Two cars are being sent to meet you at the site. ETA 10 minutes. Over.”

“Affirmative. Over.” He put the radio back and looked at O'Hara.

Her face had gone blank, all emotion gone except for the fear he could see in her eyes. “The hostages,” she said quietly. “Shawn and Gus?” He nodded. “Drive faster.”

He sped up, the girl's cry playing in his head. It sounded like Newton had already shot one person. He hoped the two consultants wouldn’t be next.


	15. It's Good to Know a Man With a Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so long in coming. Life has been crazy lately. Between being busy at work and getting sick yet again, I've barely had the energy to get any editing done. But the story is almost finished and I will try my best to keep you guys from waiting long for the ending.
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as Newton was out of sight, Shawn started tugging at his bonds again. He found that if he twisted his wrist far enough he might be able to get a hold of the knot.

“Do you think she'll be okay?” Gus asked quietly.

“I'm sure she'll be fine,” he said, concentrating on the rope. His wrist was bent as far as it would go but he still couldn't get a grip on the knot. “Damn it,” he panted, sagging against the pillar.

“Newton seemed pretty determined,” Gus said uncertainly.

“Nikki's smart,” Shawn said, looking at the ground around him. If he could find something sharp, maybe he could cut the rope. “She's just needs to get far enough away to call for help. Then she can hide until the police get here.”

“She didn't have much of a head start, and Newton has a gun,” Gus pointed out.

“I know Newton has a gun,” Shawn said sharply. He saw a likely piece of metal with a sharp edge. He stretched his foot out and was just able to touch the edge of it. Very carefully he slide the piece towards him.

“You don't seem very concerned,” Gus said with disapproval. “She could get shot trying to save us.”

His foot slipped, sending the metal shard skittering away. “I know, Gus,” he snapped, losing his temper. “She wouldn't even be here if I hadn't told her about the case, or if I had been quicker in finding Newton. Instead I'm stuck here, helpless, while he chases after her _with a gun_.” He glared at Gus. “But worrying about it isn't going to do anything. So help me figure out a way out of here.”

Gus seemed taken aback. “Shawn – ” He was cut off by the sound of a gunshot.

Shawn froze, heart pounding. He listened intently, hoping to hear something, anything that would tell him what had happened.

Silence.

He took a shaky breath, looking at Gus. He saw fear in his friend’s eyes, the same fear he himself was feeling. “It could be nothing,” he said, voice trembling. “Shooting at shadows.” Gus nodded, but didn't look convinced.

Another shot rang out, followed by a cry of pain. “Nikki!” Shawn shouted frantically. _Please don't be dead!_ He started tugging on his bonds again, barely noticing when he rubbed his wrists raw enough to draw blood.

He heard the sound of running footsteps seconds before Newton came into view. He was still holding the gun, now smoking slightly. “Who did she call?” he asked, advancing on the two of them.

Shawn exchanged a panicked glance with Gus. Neither of them knew what to say.

Newton held up Gus's phone. The screen was cracked and dark. “She dropped this after I shot her.”

Shawn's heart stopped. _Oh God no._ He suddenly found it hard to breathe, feeling like he had been punched in the stomach. _Shot doesn't mean dead_ he tried to convince himself. Newton moved in closer, reminding Shawn that his own life was in danger right now. He forced himself to take a deep breath, then another as he fought to stay focused.

“Who did she call?” Newton asked again. His eyes flickered between Shawn and Gus, waiting for an answer.

“We don't know,” Gus said, panicking.

“Don't lie to me,” Newton yelled angrily. The hand holding the gun was shaking. He walked over to Shawn and crouched down in front of him. “I heard you call her name. You know who she is. Now. Who. Did. She. Call?” He poked Shawn in the chest with each word, the gun digging in painfully.

Shawn swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

“Was it the police?” When Shawn didn’t answer, Newton stood up slowly. He glanced at Gus, then at Shawn, then at the gun in his hand. “I need to think logically. The police will be here soon.” His voice was quiet now, controlled, and that sent a shiver of fear down Shawn’s spine. “I should leave, but first I need to clean up this mess.” He looked at him regretfully as he pointed the gun at Shawn's head.

“Wait!” he shouted desperately. He could see Newton’s finger already tightening on the trigger and knew there was no talking his way out of this one. He closed his eyes and braced himself.

Three shots rang out. One bullet clipped the beam next to his head and continue past into the pile of ply wood behind him. He waited but he didn’t feel the impact of any other bullets. Maybe he was in shock.

A strangled gasp made Shawn open his eyes. Newton was staggering back from him, two blood spots blossoming on his chest. He looked at Shawn in confusion.

“Freeze!”

Shawn whipped his head around and saw Lassiter and Juliet coming cautiously around a pile of girders, guns pointed at Newton. Juliet glanced at him fearfully while Lassiter kept his full attention on Newton. “Drop the gun!” he shouted.

Newton looked at Lassiter, swaying. He started to bring his gun up towards the detective. Another shot rang out and Newton dropped to the floor. He landed facing Shawn, eyes wide and confused. He took a shuddering breath, blooding leaking out of the corner of his mouth. One more breath and he went still. Shawn watched as his eyes slowly turned dull and lifeless.

Shawn shuddered and looked away.

Lassiter walked cautiously over, gun still trained on Newton, and checked for a pulse. It seemed unnecessary to Shawn as Newton was clearly dead. Maybe it was because the blood was continuing to drain out of him even though his heart had stopped beating. Shawn moved his legs to avoid the growing pool surrounding the body.

“Shawn!” He looked up, vaguely realizing it wasn’t the first time Juliet had said his name. “Are you okay?” she asked, brow wrinkled in a worried frown.

“Fine,” he said, voice cracking. “I'd be better if I wasn't tied to this pillar.” Juliet pulled out a pocket knife and moved behind him to start cutting away the ropes. Turning his head, he saw Lassiter cutting Gus free. Gus looked over at him, wide-eyed in shock.

“There,” Juliet said as she cut away the last of the ropes. He brought his hands in front of him, wincing as his cramped arm muscles protested. He flexed his fingers, trying to get the feeling back into his hands. “Can you stand?” He nodded numbly. She reached an arm down to help pull him to his feet.

The room immediately started spinning and he would have fallen if Juliet hadn't caught him. He leaned back against the pillar and closed his eyes. “Stop the ride. I want to get off,” he groaned. His head was throbbing harshly and he was worried he was going to throw up on the body in front of him. It would be his luck to survive Newton only to have Lassiter shoot him for contaminating the crime scene.

The joke wasn’t as funny to him as it would have been under other circumstances so he forced all thoughts of shooting from his mind and focused on taking slow, even breaths.

When the floor felt more like solid ground and less like a ship at sea, he risked opening his eyes. This time the room stayed still. Juliet was still standing in front of him, one hand resting on his arm, watching him closely. “All good now,” he said, trying to grin reassuringly. He must look worse than he thought because she just looked more worried.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, Spencer,” Lassiter said. He walked over with Gus, both of them giving the body a wide berth. “Care to explain how you ended up tied to a pillar with yet another person with a gun about to shoot you?”

“Quick question first,” he said. “Did either of you see anyone else in the building?” He put his hand to his temple. “I thought I sensed someone else here.” He didn't want to mention Nikki's name just yet. If she hadn’t been seriously injured, she could have made it out before Lassiter and Juliet showed up. He hoped that was the case. He didn't want to think of her out there, bleeding and unable to move. Or lying there like Newton, her eyes staring sightlessly and her body growing cold and stiff.

“No sign of anyone else,” Lassiter said slowly, studying him with narrowed eyes. “Back up should be here by now. I’ll have them search the building.” He took the radio from his belt and walked a few steps away to the give the orders.

“Lassiter got a phone call from someone telling us where you two were,” Juliet said. “Do either of you know who made the call?”

He exchanged a quick look with Gus. So that was who Nikki called. “No idea,” Shawn said at last. “Gus dropped his phone when Newton grabbed him. Someone else must have picked it up.”

Juliet gave him a long look. “So you never saw anyone else besides Newton?”

“Nope. I just sensed their aura.” Shawn did his best to meet her gaze levelly, though the way his head was pounding it wasn’t easy.

Luckily, before she could ask anything else, Lassiter rejoined them. “The search is underway. If anyone else is here, we’ll find them.” Shawn nodded, careful not to jostle his head too much. “Now quit stalling and tell us what happened.”

Shawn took a deep breath. This would take some creative storytelling. “I had sensed Newton was still in town,” he began. Juliet nodded, having heard this already at the station. “I kept getting something to do with the brother, that his brother was the key.” He gestured at their surroundings. “James Newton worked for Mendorra, the company that abandoned work on this building. No one was using it, or would think to connect it to Newton. It was the perfect hiding place.”

“And instead of calling us, you decided it would be better to come down here and get yourselves kidnapped,” Lassiter said mockingly.

“The link was weak. I needed to be closer to sense if Newton was actually here.” He looked at Gus uncertainly. Until they knew for sure what happened to Nikki, he wanted to keep her involvement out of this. “Unfortunately, something about the building blocked my senses. Newton was able to sneak up behind me and knock me out.”

The radio on Lassiter's belt crackled to life. “Hold on a minute,” he said. He walked a few steps away and spoke quietly as he got the reports from the search. Shawn listened closely, trying to make out what was being said over the radio.

“Newton was behind both murders?” Juliet asked, breaking his concentration.

“Yeah,” Shawn said. “I even got him to give a whole monologue of how he did it. Gus and I can give you all the details later.”

“It was a pretty ingenious plot,” Gus said. “If Cooper hadn’t caught Newton planting evidence he probably would have gotten away with it.”

“Dude, are you saying he could out smart _me_?” Shawn asked indignantly. Yeah, he probably had another concussion and he hadn’t been sleeping and Nikki had been the one to figure out his hiding place. He still would have figured it all out eventually.

Gus gave him a look. “I think the fact he was holding us hostage proves he already did.”

Lassiter rejoined them. “Preliminary sweep didn't pick up anyone else in the building.” He smirked at Shawn. “Guess your 'senses' were off.” Shawn couldn't hide a sigh of relief. Nikki couldn't be hurt too bad if she had managed to leave the building without getting noticed. Though he would feel better once he could see she was fine for himself.

Lassiter gave him an odd look before continuing. “Paramedics are outside.” He looked Shawn and Gus over. “You two should probably get checked out.”

“I'm fine,” Shawn protested quickly. The last thing he wanted was to spend the night at the hospital. He pushed away from the pillar, determined to prove his fitness. He made it two steps before the room started spinning again.

This time Lassiter caught him. “You probably have a concussion,” the detective said, holding him upright. “Have them check you over, just to be safe.” Shawn was surprised by the concern in his eyes.

“Aww, Lassie, I didn't know you cared,” he gushed.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “I have no problem dropping you.”

Shawn looked down. “You do know we’re standing over a dead body, right?”

Lassiter sighed. “Guster, get over here.” Once Shawn was safely leaning against his new Gus-wall, Lassiter turned to his partner. “O'Hara, we have work to do.”

Juliet looked at Shawn, visibly torn. “Go,” Shawn said. “I'll see you later at home.” He grinned. “How much more trouble could I possibly get into tonight?”

She looked at Gus. “Make sure he gets himself checked out.”

Gus nodded. “Definitely.” He patted Shawn on the shoulder. “Let's go, buddy.” He slowly started leading Shawn out into the maze.

“Just a minute,” he said, pulling Gus to a stop. He turned around, keeping on hand on Gus for balance. “Hey Lassie!”

Lassiter was talking to McNab and Milton. He glanced over his shoulder. “Get out of here, Spencer.”

Shawn waved at him. “Come over here a minute.”

Lassiter gave the officers their orders, then stalked over to Shawn as they headed out. “What is it now?” he said irritably.

“I know we don't always get along, what with me being fun and you being boring,” he began. “And we end up fighting every week until you eventually let me solve your case for you.” Lassiter folded his arms, giving him a look of annoyance. “Forget that. What I'm trying to say. . .” He took a deep breath, glancing at Newton’s body. He shifted his gaze to the pillar he had been tied against and the mark where Newton’s bullet had hit, inches from his head. “If you hadn't been here tonight, I'd be dead,” he said thickly. He cleared his throat and looked up, meeting Lassiter's eyes. “So, thank you.”

Lassiter nodded. “Anytime.”

“Detective!” McNab called.

“Good night Shawn,” Lassiter said, nodding again. He turned and walked over to McNab.

Shawn watched him leave. “Did he just use my first name?” he asked Gus. “Or did I hallucinate that?”

“Yes, he did,” Gus said, shaking his head. “Come on.” With Shawn leaning on his shoulder he led the way out of the building.

* * *

Lassiter stopped next to McNab. “What did you find?”

“Blood splatter sir,” McNab reported. “About a dozen yards back.” He pointed out which direction to Lassiter.

He remembered the girl who had called him and the way it had sounded like she had been hit during the call. Officers had already swept the area and seen no sign of her. “Show me.”

He followed McNab through the piles of debris until they found the blood. He crouched down to get a better look. Based on the position of the splatter, the bullet had hit low. This could be because the shooter aimed low or the person hit was crouched low to the ground. He followed the probable trajectory with his eyes and saw the bullet lodged in a sheet of metal.

He pulled out a glove and an evidence bag before carefully extracting the bullet. At a glance he could tell it came from a 9 mm and guessed it would prove a match for Newton’s gun. He handed it to McNab and pointed at the blood on the ground. “I want you to run a DNA test on that blood. As soon as the results come in show it to me and no one else, understand?” McNab nodded. “The same goes for the ballistics result on that bullet.”

“Yes sir.”

Lassiter stepped back as McNab left to collect an evidence kit. He trusted the officer to keep things quiet until Lassiter decided what to do. He suspected Spencer and Guster knew who had placed the call to his phone but for some reason were covering it up. Well, he could play that game too. Nobody else knew a third person had been injured by Newton, so nobody else would be expecting the blood results. The ballistics test would be trickier but without being taken in combination with the blood it could be explained away as a routine check of a bullet found in the vicinity of a crime scene where a gun was fired. He’d be able to track her down before Spencer or anyone else knew he was looking.

Lassiter glanced again at the blood splatter. Someone had risked their life to save the two consultants and gotten shot for their efforts. Someone the same two consultants were trying to hide from him, however obviously. Someone whose voice he swore he had heard before. “Who are you?” he muttered quietly.

* * *

It didn’t take the paramedics long to bandage and clear Gus to leave but Shawn was another story. The medics were worried he had a concussion (he privately agreed with them about that) and should go to the hospital to get checked out. His balance had improved during the trip outside and he could now walk on his own, if leaning a bit, and the pain had died down to a dull throb. Unfortunately, they did not see this as much of an improvement. It was only after Gus agreed to watch him overnight that they reluctantly bandaged his wrists and let him go as well.

“When Juliet said to get checked out, she also meant to listen to the paramedics,” Gus said as they walked in between the police cars staged around the building to the far side of the lot where the Blueberry was. “Not to ignore their medical advice.”

“Then she should have said that explicitly.” He yawned, sleepiness creeping up on him again. He wasn’t sure if it was from his head injury or the lack of sleep the night before. “The doctor at the hospital would have told me to do the same thing the paramedics did. This way I didn't have to wait around three hours in the ER and have someone threaten to keep me overnight for observation.”

“You could have brain damage,” Gus said.

“I'm fine,” Shawn said, really tired of having this argument. He forced himself to stand up straighter as they closed the last few feet to the car. He could see movement in the back seat and let out a sigh of relief, knowing who it was.

“Thanks to Lassiter,” Gus muttered.

Shawn stopped next to the car. “No, thanks to Nikki.” He opened the back door. “You can come out now.”

Nikki crawled awkwardly out of the back seat, cradling her left arm. “Hey Shawn, Gus.” She looked down nervously. “So, how much trouble am I in?”

“Did you get any blood on my back seat?” Gus asked.

“Dude!” Shawn smacked him in the chest.

“It’s a company car, Shawn. I have to return it in like new condition. They are not just going to overlook blood stains on the upholstery.” Gus peeked inside to check for any damages.

Shawn glared at him. “At least pretend you have a heart.” He turned to Nikki and held out his hand. “Let me see your arm.” She gingerly extended it so he could examine the wound. She had been hit in the upper part of the arm. When he pulled back her sleeve, he saw fresh blood well up from the injury site.

“That looks bad,” Gus said worriedly. “You should probably go to the hospital.”

“No!” Nikki said quickly. “If we go to the hospital and they find out what happened, they'll send me back to foster care.” She looked at Shawn fearfully. “You promised Shawn.”

Shawn glanced at Gus. “I still think she should go but it's your call,” his friend said.

Shawn looked back at the wound, twisting Nikki’s arm carefully to see it in better light. The bullet had torn a long furrow along the outside of her arm. It didn't look too deep but was still oozing pretty heavily. “It needs stitches,” he said, looking up at her face.

“I don't mind a scar,” she said quietly.

Shawn sighed. “Gus, do you still have that first aid kit in your car?” His friend nodded, frowning disapprovingly. “Get it out and let’s see if we can bandage this.”

“Are you sure?” Gus asked, clearly not agreeing with his course of action.

“You heard her. Scars are hip now. She’ll be the coolest delinquent hanging at the mall.” He ignored the way Nikki rolled her eyes at him.

Gus crossed his arms. “If you can’t bandage it, will you take her to the hospital?”

Shawn looked at Nikki. “If it’s foster care versus bleeding to death or losing your arm, will you go?”

Nikki sighed. “I’ll go.”

Gus shook his head. “I think there are some steri strips in the kit we can use to close the wound,” he said in defeat. “I also have a sample of a new antibiotic cream that should help.”

Shawn looked at him gratefully. “Thanks man.”

He waited until Gus was digging around in his trunk before stepping closer to Nikki. “Why did you call Lassiter?” he asked in a low voice. “Why not call the police?”

“I didn’t know if the police would believe me,” Nikki said. “I knew Lassiter would come.”

Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that? He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Nikki said. “Every time you’ve been in real trouble, he’s come to help you out. Even though he had no reason to trust me, I knew he would come just to make sure you were safe.” She nudged Shawn with her good arm. “He’s a good friend. You should be nicer to him.”

“We're not friends,” Shawn scoffed. Nikki gave him a look and said nothing.

Gus slammed the trunk of his car. “Got it.” He dragged the kit over and dropped it at Shawn’s feet.

Nikki’s eyes widened. “ _That’s_ your first aid kit?”

To be fair, Gus’ first aid kit more closely resembled a trunk of medical supplies than the standard rectangle box most people were used to. “He’s a pharmaceutical rep. Half this stuff he’s stolen from doctor’s offices and hospitals.”

“Those were all free samples. Anyone could take them,” Gus said defensively. “Besides, with how fast you go through those supplies, I can’t afford to pay to restock the kit.”

“Gus likes to overreact,” Shawn said. “We don’t use the kit that frequently.”

Gus reached inside and pulled out a folder at least three inches thick. “I keep his medical record on hand just in case we need to take a trip to the ER.”

“Fine, so I’m a bit accident prone,” Shawn said, grabbing the file from Gus and throwing it back in the trunk. “Where are those strip things?”

“Here.” Gus pulled them out, along with some gauze, tape, and alcohol wipes. He glanced at Nikki’s arm and swallowed hard. “I'll just wait over there,” he said, pointing to the other side of the car.

Shawn nodded, grinning as Gus beat a hasty retreat. His friend hated the sight of blood. He turned back to Nikki, who was looking inside the kit. “Is that a belt?”

He glanced in the kit. “Yeah. They’re good for holding a split together.” Nikki gave him a look that was a mix of exasperation and, oddly, admiration. “Turn so I can see your arm.” He ripped open the first alcohol wipe and set to work. “How did you make it past the police to Gus's car?”

Nikki winced as he cleaned out the wound. “After Newton shot me, I ended up not too far from where you were tied up. I had a pretty clear view of what was happening. I hid there until Lassiter and Juliet showed up.” She swallowed, looking away.

He realized she must have seen Lassiter shoot Newton. She had probably never seen a dead body before outside a hospital or wake, let alone seen someone shot and killed in front of her. That wasn't something the average person just walked away from unaffected. She was probably having a hard time dealing with it. Hell, _he_ was having a hard time dealing with it, even with everything he'd seen. He grabbed the strips and carefully started using them to close the wound. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Once I knew you were safe, I snuck out to the car. I ducked into the back seat right before the rest of the police showed up.” She grinned wryly at Shawn. “I guess they're used to seeing Gus's car at crime scenes. They didn't even bother looking inside.”

Shawn nodded. She was probably right. He grabbed the gauze and tapped a couple pieces over the wound. “There you go,” he said, smoothing the last piece of tape. “Good as new. Well, eventually.” He threw the supplies back in the kit. “Next time, try not to get shot.”

“I'll try,” she said giving him a wane smile. She blinked, tears starting to form in her eyes before she turned away.

“Hey,” he said worriedly. “You're okay now. Everything will be fine.” He tilted her head up to look her in the eyes. “He's gone. No one's going to hurt you,” he said seriously.

She gave a strangled sob and threw her arms around him. “I thought he was going to kill you,” she said into his chest. “It's my fault you're here and it would have been my fault if he killed you. I'm so sorry.” She started crying softly as she clung tightly to him.

Shawn carefully wrapped his arms around her. He had been so focused on keeping her safe, he hadn't considered she how worried she must have been about him. He could feel her trembling and held her tighter. “Trust me, I probably would have ended up like that with or without you. I kind of have a thing for getting in trouble.” She shook her head, face still pressed against his chest. “Hey, look at me.” He waited until she had raised her tear-streaked face before smiling gently. “I'm fine, thanks to you,” he said quietly. He remembered the terror he felt when Newton went after her and he heard those gunshots. He swallowed hard. “Just don't scare me like that again. I can't afford to lose my apprentice.”

She gave a short laugh, sobs slowly subsiding.

He saw Gus around the corner of the car, watching them but not intruding. He met Shawn’s gaze and jerked his head, holding up the car keys.

Shawn knew they should leave before someone noticed what was happening but he was oddly reluctant to let her go. She had almost seen him die and probably needed the reassurance of feeling that he was still alive. And, well, maybe he did too. A glance around told him nobody had noticed their little tableau yet.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling some of his tension drain away. He pushed aside his worries about finding Nikki's father, if Lassiter would investigate the strange phone call, if his dad would find out what happened with Nikki tonight, and a myriad other things. They could wait until later. Right now, he was going to take another minute to enjoy the fact they had both made it through the night alive.


	16. Who's Your Daddy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. I got super distracted working on a bunch of fics for the holidays. The rest of the story is done and will be posted as soon as my beta finishes with it. 
> 
> For those of you that read the original story, I hope you like the changes I made.

_Sunday_

 

Nikki gently eased open the back door of the Psych office and smiled to herself. Gus had been reminding Shawn to remember to lock the front door but they both had forgotten about the back. She slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.

The office was empty, which wasn't surprising. Last night had been another late night for everyone. Shawn and Gus had driven her back to Mr. Spencer's place to find the ex-cop waiting for them. Mr. Spencer had taken one look at Shawn, swaying on his feet, and sent him home, saving all of his lecturing for Nikki.

That had lasted for a good hour and covered a wide range of topics; she had put herself, Shawn and Gus in danger, the police were trained to handle it, now his deck was laying unfinished because his helpers had all been running off after a murderer. He put a lot on emphasize on how lucky she was not to get hurt or worse and really made her feel guilty for what had happened to Shawn and Gus.

She tugged lightly on the bandage on her arm. Shawn had let her borrow his sweater to cover up the injury, both of them agreeing that it would be best to hide it from his dad. If he had seen it, Mr. Spencer would probably have yelled at her all night. _And_ he probably would have dragged Shawn back over to yell at him too, which wasn’t even fair because it was her decision to go after Newton. Really, it was just better if Mr. Spencer never found out.

She went over to Shawn's desk and sat down, covering a yawn with her hand. Despite how exhausted she had been last night, she had barely gotten any sleep. The pain of her arm had kept her awake and what sleep she did get was bothered by nightmares. Sometimes she wished she didn't have such a great memory. It made the nightmares that much more real. She had eventually given up on sleep and come down here (this time leaving a note for Mr. Spencer so he wouldn’t worry). She figured Shawn would show up at the office eventually.

She slowly spun the chair around, wondering what to do until he got here. Shawn had looked really worn out last night, so would probably sleep in, leaving her with a bunch of time to kill. She wondered if he had anything good on TiVo.

Her glance fell on an envelope sitting on the desk. She stopped spinning the chair and picked it up.

It was from the hospital in Denver where her mom had been. She recognized the name on the return address as one of the nurses who had taken care of her. Curious now, she dumped the contents of the envelope on the desk. A picture landed face down along with a folded piece of paper.

She reached for the picture first and flipped it over. Her breath caught when she saw the two people in it. After a long moment, she placed it carefully back on the desk and reached for the paper. She carefully unfolded it and glanced it over. It was a letter to Shawn and her eyes widened when she saw who it was from. “Why would you write a letter to Shawn?” she asked quietly.

Completely confused, and a little unsettled, she started to read.

* * *

_He was in the abandoned building again, tied to the pillar. Newton had just taken off after Nikki, gun in his hand. One shot had already been fired. He sat there breathlessly, hoping Nikki was safe._

_Another shot rang out, followed by a cry of pain. “Nikki!” He started tugging on his bonds, drawing blood in his attempt to free himself._

_He heard the sound of running footsteps, then someone stumbled into view. It was Nikki, bleeding heavily from a shot to her abdomen. “Shawn,” she gasped, looking at him accusingly. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “You said you would keep me safe.”_

_He watched in horror as she collapsed to the ground. “Nikki!” he screamed, trying desperately to wrench himself free. She took a couple of choking breaths, then lay still. As he watched, her eyes turned glazed and lifeless. “Nikki!”_

_Suddenly Newton was standing in front of him. He raised the gun and pointed it at Shawn’s head. “One more complication to take care of,” he said before pulling the trigger._

Shawn woke with a gasp, the sound of the gunshot still echoing in his head. Disoriented from the dream, he glanced around quickly, trying to figure out where he was. He relaxed as the familiar view of his bedroom met his eyes. He was safe at home. Newton was dead. He and Nikki were fine. He kept repeating that to himself as he took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. Slowly, the dream started to fade, and the fear and anxiety along with it.

He looked at the alarm clock and sighed. It was way too early for him to be up after the night he’d had; actually, the last few nights. He had not gotten a full night’s sleep in almost a week. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but knew from past experience it was no use trying to fall asleep again. The nightmare would just come back, as vivid as the first time. It was one of the drawbacks of having a photographic memory. Sure, it was fun to solve crimes and play at being a cop, but he often woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, haunted by what he had seen. Some days, it didn’t seem worth it anymore.

He forced his mind away from that depressing thought and sat up, groaning as his abused body protested the movement. If he was going to be up this early, he needed coffee. He paused as he crossed the room and took in his disheveled and dirt smeared appearance in the mirror. He had been too tired last night to do anything besides fall straight into bed. Okay, first a shower, then coffee.

He stood under the hot spray for what felt like hours, letting the soothing heat relax his tense muscles. He only got out once the water ran cold. Afterward, he felt refreshed and slightly more human. He re-bandaged his wrists and headed for the kitchen.

There was a note waiting for him taped to the coffee maker.

  


She had put a little heart instead of a dot over the 'i' in her name. He smiled. He had never figured out how he had been lucky enough to end up with Juliet. They had been dancing around each other for years, never available at the same time, constantly missing out on each other. He had almost given up hope it would ever happen. Finally confessing his feelings to her in Canada and sharing that kiss on the bridge had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

Still smiling, he opened the cabinet over the counter to get the coffee. His smile faded when he saw a bare spot where the coffee was usually kept. He searched through the whole cabinet but came up empty handed. Even the special flavored beans were gone.

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where the coffee had disappeared to. Luckily, he had a Plan B. He went to the cabinet where they kept the fine china and other dishware they rarely used. He kept a hidden stash of coffee back there, just for this situation. Instead of coffee, he found a box of green tea. Grumbling, he went back to the coffee maker and grabbed the note. Flipping it over, he found more writing on the back.

  


Shawn sighed. As much as he loved her, she could still drive him crazy at times. She was getting much better at figuring out his secrets too. Soon, he wouldn't be able to keep anything from her and wasn’t _that_ a scary thought.

He went into the living room and grabbed the remote. Lowering himself to the couch, he turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. After a couple of minutes, he had to turn it off. The flashing lights were making his head ache. While not nearly as bad as the night before, he still probably had to take it a bit easier today.

He looked around the room, trying to think of something to do to occupy himself. The house was quiet and peaceful and the stillness was starting to get on his nerves. He needed to get out of here.

A glance at the clock proved it to be midmorning. Considering their late night, Gus was probably still asleep and wouldn't appreciate Shawn waking him up. But his bike was still at his dad's place, so it was either Gus or walk. He grabbed the portable phone, pretty sure he remembered the number to Gus's new work cell.

The first time, the phone rang five times before going to voicemail. The second time, it rang twice before going to voicemail. The third call went straight to voicemail.

“Fourth times the charm,” he said, dialing Gus's number again. His friend wouldn’t shut off this phone in case the call was work related.

This time he finally got a response, if a short one. “No, Shawn,” followed by a dial tone.

Shawn called him again. “Dude, I didn't even ask anything yet,” he said indignantly as soon as Gus picked up.

“What do you want Shawn?” Gus asked irritably.

“I need a ride.”

“No,” Gus said, hanging up.

“Some people are grouchy in the morning,” he muttered, dialing again. “Dude, stop hanging up already,” he whined once Gus answered.

He heard Gus sigh. “Do you have any idea how late I got home last night? I had to wait three hours for Juliet to show up before I could leave your place.”

“You didn't have to hang around,” he said, surprised Gus had stayed. He could barely remember getting home last night and had passed out as soon as he stretched out on the bed. “You could have just gone home.”

“Shawn, you most likely have a concussion,” Gus reminded him. “Remember what the paramedics said? Someone needed to check on you to make sure you were okay.”

“Aww, Gus, how sweet,” he said, using his most cutesy voice. “When did you turn into a girl?”

“Shut up Shawn,” Gus said crossly.

Chuckling, he asked, “Now, how about that ride?”

“Aren't you supposed to be resting?” Gus asked wearily.

“I can rest at the office,” he argued. “Besides, I have to call that PI today, remember?”

“Not for another couple of hours,” Gus pointed out.

“Come on, it's so boring here,” he whined. “Would you rather I walked? I don't think that would be very safe, considering my head injury.” He waited, knowing Gus couldn't say no now.

Gus sighed in annoyance. “Fine,” he said, causing Shawn to grin. Gus was so predictable. “I'll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks dude. Any chance we can stop for coffee along the way?” There was silence, then a dial tone. “Guess that's a no then.”

* * *

Shawn slurped his drink happily. “Suzy really does make the best smoothies.” He took another long slurp and turned to Gus. “Don’t you agree?”

Gus made a noncommittal noise as he pulled into his parking spot in front of Psych. He had put his foot down about getting coffee yet Shawn had managed to convince him to drive across town to get smoothies. His friend was good at talking people into things.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You can’t still be hung up about this.”

Gus shut off the car and looked at him. “I don’t think it’s right conning free smoothies out of her.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Shawn said indignantly. “She’s merely expressing her gratitude for the work I do helping the citizens of Santa Barbara.” He took a sip of his free drink, looking incredibly smug. “Cops get free things all the time.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Gus, please, I’m practically a cop,” Shawn said. “I solve crimes like a cop and catch bad guys like a cop. I even have handcuffs.” Gus tried really hard not to think about why his best friend had handcuffs. Shawn smacked him on the shoulder. “Dude, do you think the Chief would make me an honorary cop? I bet I could get all sorts of free stuff with a real badge.”

“No,” Gus said shortly. He got out of the car and started walking towards the Psych office.

Shawn jumped out of the car and caught up with him. “You’re grumpy. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“You woke me up,” Gus grumbled. He had been up half the night doing concussion checks on Shawn until Juliet had come home and could take over. He had hoped to sleep in this morning to make up for the late night but Shawn, as usual, ruined his plan.

The little sleep he had gotten had been restless and uneasy, plagued by fragments of disturbing dreams and memories from the night before. This wasn’t the first time either one had had their lives threatened or he’d had a restless night’s sleep, but it left him tired and irritable. Only the knowledge that Shawn’s nightmares would have been worse than his own, and the fact his friend looked just as exhausted as the day before, kept Gus from lashing out.

“No, I don’t think that’s it.” Shawn snapped his fingers. “I bet it’s because _you_ had to pay for your drink.” He nodded wisely and took another long, loud sip from his smoothie.

“It’s not like you solved those cases on your own,” Gus said, unlocking the door. He did just as much work on the cases as Shawn yet his friend always seemed to get all the credit.

“I knew it!” Shawn crowed. “You’re jealous!”

Gus frowned. “Maybe I am,” he admitted reluctantly. “But that’s not the point. You are taking advantage of her. She was flirting with you the whole time.”

“Really?” Shawn asked, sounding too innocent. “I hadn’t noticed.” He drained his smoothie and threw out the container in the can by the door.

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Please, Shawn. She was all over you.” He sighed when he saw Shawn had left the door open and went over to close it. “It’s not right to lead her on like that when you have a girlfriend.”

“Relax, Gus,” Shawn said. “A little flirting never hurt anyone.”

They walked into the main area of the office and stopped short. Nikki was standing there, arms crossed, waiting for them. She looked angry and her gaze was fixed on Shawn.

“Hey Nikki,” Shawn said uncertainly. No response. Not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was about to happen, Gus cautiously moved to the side, out of direct eyesight.

“How are you? Do you want a smoothie? I’m sure Gus could go get you one. Right Gus?” Shawn looked over at him and he glared back. He wanted no part in whatever trouble Shawn had gotten himself into with Nikki.

“How could you Shawn?” Nikki asked finally. Gus was surprised by the amount of pain in her voice. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?” Shawn asked, looking completely clueless.

“Don’t play dumb!” she said angrily. “You lied to me!”

“Lied to you?” Shawn glanced over at Gus, completely baffled. Gus shrugged, having no idea what Nikki was talking about either. His friend had been unusually upfront with Nikki about everything; more than Gus was really comfortable with to be honest.

“Yes, lied to me!” she shouted. “I’ve barely known you a week and you lie to everyone, even your girlfriend.” She laughed bitterly. “I was stupid to think I’d be any different.”

Shawn looked uncomfortable and tried to lighten the mood like he normally did in tense situations. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t an actual sheriff but the people of Old Sonora loved me,” Shawn said, trying a small grin.

“Stop with the jokes!” Nikki said, eyes blazing. “I found the letter.” She held up an envelope Gus recognized as the letter from the hospital they had received yesterday. “How long have you been hiding this from me?” she demanded, waving it at Shawn.

“Look, I just got that yesterday,” Shawn said defensively. “I haven’t even read it yet.”

“I don’t believe you.” She angrily wiped away tears, still glaring at Shawn. “I thought I could trust you.”

Looking at the angry teenager, Gus was reminded how young she really was, despite how mature she acted at times. She had been through a lot these last couple of weeks, including being chased by a murderer the night before and getting shot. He wasn’t the best with kids and Shawn wasn’t much better, so he hoped his friend would tread lightly.

“Nikki, I promise I have not lied to you,” Shawn said quietly. He cautiously moved closer to Nikki. She glared at him, but didn’t step back. “I’ve done my best to try to help you. I never wanted to hurt you.” He took another step closer, putting him right in front of her.

Nikki looked away, tears slowing running down her face. “I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

“You can trust me,” Shawn said solemnly. “I promised to keep you safe and find your father and I will.”

Nikki’s head snapped up and Shawn took a quick step back at the raw anger in her gaze. “You know what? Screw you Shawn!” She threw the envelope on the ground, shaking with rage. “I never should have saved you from Newton!” She choked back a sob as she shoved past Shawn and ran out of the room.

“Nikki!” Shawn called after her. The door slamming shut was the only reply. He ran a hand through his hair, looking after her uncertainly, before sighing heavily. He bent down and picked up the envelope Nikki had thrown on the floor.

Gus walked towards Shawn slowly. “What was that about?” he asked quietly.

Shawn looked at him, hurt and bewildered. “I don’t know.” He looked back down at the envelope. “But I know how to find out.” He walked over to his desk and dumped the contents of the envelope on its surface. A folded piece of paper and a photograph fell out.

Shawn picked up the picture first. He frowned and tilted his head as he studied it, a puzzled look on his face. After a moment, he put the picture down and picked up the paper. He unfolded it and glanced over it quickly before looking up at Gus in surprised. “It’s from Nikki’s mom.”

A letter from her dead mother would certainly be upsetting to any teenager. However, Gus suspected it contained something big for her to lash out at Shawn like she did. “What does it say?”

Shawn looked back down at the letter. Gus watched his eyes traveling over the page, resisting the urge to peak over his shoulder and read the letter himself. After a minute Shawn froze and his eyes widened in shock. “No way,” he muttered.

“What?” Gus asked eagerly.

Shawn didn’t answer him. He flipped the page over as if checking for more written on the back. Gus noticed he had gone pale and his hand was trembling as he read over the letter again. He suddenly dropped down into his chair, putting his head in his hands.

“Shawn?” Gus asked anxiously. When his friend didn’t answer he gently touched his shoulder. “Shawn, are you okay?”

Shawn raised his head slowly. He looked like he had aged in the last few seconds, the dark circles under his eyes and stress lines standing out in sharp relief on his pale face. He gazed off into the distance as if Gus wasn’t even there. “I didn’t see it,” he muttered half to himself. “I’m supposed to be super observant and I never saw what was right in front of me.” He started laughing as he finally looked at Gus. “No wonder that PI found the situation funny.”

His laughter had a hysterical edge to it. Gus wondered if this was all a reaction to the letter or if Shawn was suffering brain damage from the blow to his head last night. His friend had never gone to the hospital and a slow bleed could take time to develop. Gus knew altered mental status was a sign of a head injury (Shawn had had enough concussions for him to be familiar with the warning signs) and he prayed he wouldn’t have to rush Shawn to the hospital. “Shawn, I need you to calm down and tell me what’s going on,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly.

Shawn shook his head, letting his laughter die off. “Sorry.” He picked up the photograph and handed it to Gus. “This is Sarah Peterson.”

Gus examined the picture. A young girl recognizable as Nikki was standing next to what was obviously her mother. She had long straight brown hair, startling blue eyes, and a pretty smile. Gus could see himself being interested in a woman like that. “Why would she send you this?” Gus asked.

“About fifteen years ago, a young man on a motorcycle was traveling along the east coast. One night he was stranded by a rainstorm in a small town in North Carolina. He needed a place to stay and luckily one of the waitresses at the local diner was kind enough to let him spend the night.” Shawn pointed to the picture in Gus’ hand.

Gus guessed the guy with the bike was Shawn and the waitress was obviously Sarah Peterson. He didn’t need Shawn to spell it out for him that his twenty year old self had probably slept with the pretty waitress. Shawn did always have a thing for them. But why did this matter almost a decade and a half later and why would Sarah send that picture to him on her death bed?

When the realization hit, Gus felt both incredibly stupid for not seeing it right away and shocked at what his friend was implying. “Shawn, are you saying. . ?”

“Yeah.” Shawn leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him, and grinned wryly at Gus. “Nikki’s my daughter.”


	17. Like Father, Like Daughter

Shawn was all for chasing after Nikki right away. He now understood why she had been so upset. He would be too, if it looked like someone he trusted had betrayed him, especially if that person turned out to be family. He needed to talk to her and explain his side of the story. The whole thing was his fault and he couldn't rest until he made things right.

Gus had argued against it, saying it was best to give her some space and she would come back when she was ready. Shawn knew he was probably right, but he couldn't just sit still. He compromised by limiting his search to areas around the Psych office, hoping she hadn't gone far. When the search turned up nothing, he returned to wait.

“Calm down,” Gus said, watching Shawn pace back and forth in between their desks like a caged animal. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Shawn glanced at the clock. “It's already been two hours,” he said worriedly. “What if something happened to her?” His mind raced through all the things that could befall a fifteen year old girl wandering the streets alone and he started pacing faster. “She could have been hit by a car, or attacked in an alley, or kidnapped. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere, scared and hurt, and we would never know.” He could almost see it; Nikki lying there covered in blood, trying to call out any time she heard someone passing by. He took a shuddering breath and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

Gus got up from his desk and grabbed Shawn, pulling him to a stop. “Snap out of it,” he said, looking Shawn straight in the eye, making sure he had his attention. “Relax. She's smart. I'm sure she's fine.”

Shawn took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Once he started to calm down, Gus let him go. “Thanks man,” he said. “I guess I was overreacting a little.” He grinned sheepishly at Gus.

“You think?” Gus asked, arching an eyebrow. He walked back to his desk, giving Shawn time to regain his composure. “She needs some time to sort things out. It's a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it,” Shawn muttered. He plopped down in his desk chair, looking for something to keep him occupied. He grabbed a tennis ball off the shelf behind him and started bouncing it off the wall. _**Thunk**_ _-thwap._

“You know, the only person I've ever seen yell at you like that is your dad,” Gus said thoughtfully. _**Thunk**_ _-thwap_. “I guess she gets her temper from him.” He shook his head in mock pity, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry dude.”

_**Thunk**_ _-thwap._ “I'm more worried about what she got from me,” Shawn said, staring at the wall. _**Thunk**_ _-thwap._ “I don't exactly have the best track record with emotional situations.” _**Thunk**_ _-thwap._ “What if she decides to run again?” _**Thunk**_ _. Kkrrsshh!_ The ball had hit the wall at an angle and veered off across the room, knocking over a lamp in the corner. “Perfect,” he said with a sigh. He grabbed a trash can and walked over to clean up the mess.

“Shawn,” Gus said worriedly.

“Kind of busy, Gus,” he said abrasively, kneeling down by the broken lamp. He started carefully picking up shards of glass and depositing them in the trash can. His right hand slipped on one of the more jagged pieces. “Damn it!” he cursed, grabbing his hand. Blood quickly welled up along his slashed palm and dripping to the floor. “Can't anything go right today?” he muttered darkly.

A first kit fell in front of him. “Thanks,” he said, looking up at his friend.

“No problem,” Gus said, averting his gaze. “Make sure to get the blood off the floor.” He grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the broken glass.

Shawn bandaged his hand as best he could (being ambidextrous was _not_ one of his talents) and wiped up the blood. “All better,” he said, holding up his hand to show Gus. He grabbed the first aid kit with his other hand and went to put it back by the sink.

Gus dumped the last of the glass shards in the trash can. He put the broom back and looked seriously at Shawn. “Do you really think she'll run off?”

Shawn sighed. “It's what _I_ would do.” He snorted, turning to give Gus a wry grin. “Hell, if it was me, I would be long gone by now.” He grabbed the tennis ball off the floor and went back over to his desk. He placed it down carefully, keeping his back to Gus. “She already ran away once coming here.”

“I don't think she'll run,” Gus said slowly. “She had nothing to lose the last time she ran. No home, no family. Now, she has a place to stay and people who care about her. . . and she has you.”

Shawn turned around, looking at Gus uncertainly. “Me? I’m the reason she ran off crying.”

“She may be mad at you and hate your guts right now, but you're still her father. She's been waiting fifteen years to meet you.” Gus gave him a reassuring look. “She's not going to leave now.”

“I hope you're right,” Shawn said. The office phone rang, breaking the tension. He answered it automatically. “This is Psych. Unfortunately, disturbances in the ether mean we aren't taking any new cases right now – “

“What the hell did you do?” an angry voice cut him off.

Shawn blinked. “Dad?”

“Nikki just showed up in tears, yelling that you're a bastard and that she never wants to see you again,” Henry said. Shawn closed his eyes in relief. “You better have a good explanation.”

“Is she okay?” he asked quietly.

“Besides the screaming,” Henry said matter-of-factly. He gave a sigh. “What did you do now?”

“Doesn't matter. I'll be right there.” He hung up the phone over his dad's protests and looked at Gus. His friend was already grabbing his keys. “She's at my dad's.”

“So I was right,” Gus said with a grin.

“Drive now. Gloat later,” Shawn said, pushing Gus out the door.

* * *

 

Shawn hesitated in front of his father's door. He usually just walked in; he used to live here too after all. But this time, given the situation, maybe he should knock. Or would that make his dad suspicious, deviating from his usual behavior?

He shifted his weight, staring blankly at the door. He knew he was over thinking this and probably stalling but he couldn’t decide what to do. If he couldn't make this simple decision, how could he expect to tackle the more complicated problem of fixing things with Nikki?

Before he could make up his mind, Henry opened the door and glared at him.

“I don't appreciate screaming teenagers running through my house,” he said, letting Shawn inside. “I got enough of that when you were growing up.” He noticed the bandage on Shawn's hand and rolled his eyes. “Can't you go one day without injuring yourself?”

“Apparently not,” Shawn said, distracted. “Where's Nikki?” The house was quiet and he didn't see any sign of her.

Henry sighed. “Out back. She said she wanted to be alone.” He looked speculatively at Shawn. “Whatever you did, it really upset her.”

“I'm trying to fix that.” Shawn looked hesitantly at his father. He didn't want his dad to overhear this conversation; he’d had enough screaming for one day. “Look, it might take a while and I can't promise there won't be more yelling. . .”

Henry took the hint. “I have some errands I can run.” He nodded towards the back door. “I hope you can fix this.”

“Me too,” Shawn said quietly.

Henry patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck kid. Don't screw it up.”

Shawn rolled his eyes as his father left. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered. He walked slowly over to the back door and looked outside. Nikki was sitting on the picnic table in the yard, staring out towards the beach.

He was overcome with a sudden wave of emotion. That was his _daughter_ out there. His own flesh and blood, carrying half of his DNA. He was half responsible for her existence and, until a few days ago, he had known nothing about her. He felt a surge of anger at her mother but reason quickly smothered it. He hadn’t been the most responsible person when he met Sarah and could understand why she hadn’t bothered to track her down.

It still would have been nice to know about her. He had missed so much of her life already, all the important moments he had promised he would never miss with his own kid like his dad had missed with him. He wasn't there when she spoke her first word, never taught her how to ride her first bike. He missed her first day off school and couldn't comfort her after getting into a fight with her friend. He guessed he may still have a shot dealing with her first boyfriend (and wasn't _that_ a terrifying thought; he knew what teenage boys were like) and teaching her how to drive but it wasn't much compared to all that he had missed.

He reached for the door and hesitated, suddenly nervous. What if he couldn't fix things? What if he had blown his one chance to connect with his daughter? He had only known her a few days and already she had become an important part of his life. He didn’t want to lose her before he got the chance to know her.

He shook his head. He had to stay positive. He could fix this. No, he _would_ fix this. He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. When his hands stopped shaking, he slid open the door and stepped out onto the back porch.

He put up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It was probably one of the last truly nice days of summer. The sky was bright blue with not a cloud in sight. The sun shone down warmly without being overly humid or muggy. In short, it was the perfect day to kick back outside and relax.

He barely registered any of this, all his attention focused on the girl on the table. “Hey,” he said quietly. Nikki stiffened but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his presence. He walked slowly over to the picnic table and climbed up on the end opposite her. Still no response. He sighed softly. It looked like it was up to him to get the conversation started.

“So. . . ” He cast around for an innocuous topic of conversation. “Nice weather we're having,” he said finally. The weather was always safe to talk about.

“Go away, Shawn,” Nikki said, angling her body away from him. Her voice was raspy from crying and he saw her discreetly wipe at her eyes. It hurt, seeing her so upset because of him.

“Nikki, just let me explain – ”

“Just go away,” she said forcefully. She sniffed, wiping her eyes again.

They sat there in silence for a while. Shawn tried to figure out how to get her to talk to him. Maybe a different approach would work. He leaned back on his hands, looking out at the ocean. “You know, technically, it was Lassiter that saved me,” he said nonchalantly, referencing her angry outburst back at the Psych office. He avoided looking at Nikki directly; instead, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see how she would respond.

It was a small movement; as if she had started to turn towards him, but changed her mind right away. But it was enough for him to know it was working. “Scream at me, say you wish I was dead, whatever.” She gave a start at the word 'dead.' “But at least get your facts straight. It's all thanks to good ol’ Lassie that I'm here.” He saw her fists clench slightly. Anger was good. Anger would get her talking. “I should make him a cake or something,” he mused.

“Lassiter may have shot Newton, but he was only there because I called him,” Nikki snapped. “Therefore, I saved you.” She turned and glared at him. “You never even said thank you.”

He sat up and turned towards her. Her hazel eyes were red rimmed and sparking with anger. “You're right,” he said softly. He took a deep breath, looking her right in the eyes. “Thank you, Nikki, for saving my life.”

It wasn’t the response she was expecting and she seemed unsure how to respond. She looked away, crossing her arms. “You're welcome,” she said quietly, less anger evident in her voice now.

He had gotten her to acknowledge he was there. Good. Now he had to keep her talking. “How's the arm?” He could see the edge of the bandage sticking out from under her sleeve. He hoped Henry hadn't noticed it when she ran past earlier.

She tugged on her sleeve to cover the bandage. “It hurts,” she replied shortly. She glanced at him quickly, then back towards the beach. “How's your head?” she asked with a note of concern in her voice.

“It hurts,” he replied, just as succinctly. He held up his hand. “This hurts too.”

She looked over at his hand. “What did you do?” she asked, turning slightly towards him.

“Had an accident with a lamp,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes. “You're an idiot.” She turned back to the beach but not before he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

“Some would call me a genius,” he said.

“What, the other wackos at the loony bin?” she retorted.

“Hey, don't make fun of the crazies,” he said indignantly. “Wackos are people too. The ones at the hospital really looked up to me.”

She glanced over at him. “You spent time in a mental hospital?” she asked, not sounding too surprised.

“I was undercover,” he said defensively.

“Uh huh,” she said skeptically. They lapsed into silence again, although with a great deal less tension than last time.

“How long have you known?” she asked quietly. “And no lies, or jokes, or anything.” She looked at him seriously. “I want the truth.”

“Since this morning.” She looked skeptical. He held up his hands. “I swear it's the truth,” he insisted. “I got the letter yesterday, but didn't get a chance to read it. Someone ran off after a murderer.” He looked her straight in the eye, willing her to believe him.

She studied his face for a moment, then looked away. “I'm sorry I ran off,” she said quietly. “And I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning. The letter was open, so I assumed you read it. I shouldn't have said the things I did.” She glanced at him, embarrassed. “I'm glad you're not dead.”

“Me too,” he said sincerely. “Apology accepted. And for the record, I have never lied to you about anything important. Not even about most of the little stuff.” He looked out towards the beach. “There's very few people I'm that honest with,” he said softly.

He saw her nod slowly. “Shawn?” she asked hesitantly. “What happens now?”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Well, the police in Denver will have to be notified that you're here. You are a missing person after all.” The Chief was already aware of the situation and he was sure she would help him out. Although she would want to know the identity of Nikki’s father and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell her. He’d have to be honest with social services or whoever was in charge of deciding where Nikki ended up but he wasn’t ready to be the gossip of the whole station.

“Are you going to send me back?” she asked quietly.

His thoughts slammed to a halt and he looked at her in shock. “Of course not. I made a promise to keep you safe.” After everything that had happened, after everything he had learned, that was the last thing on his mind.

“You made that promise before you knew the truth,” she said, looking down. “When I was just a case, some kid you were helping out because you were bored.” She took a shuddering breath, sounding close to tears. “I've already caused you enough problems. I thought it might be easier for you, if you sent me back.”

Shawn slid across the table until he was next to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You were never just a case to me, even before I knew the truth,” he said softly. “Yes, I was bored when you walked into the office but even if we had a dozen cases I wouldn’t have turned you away. I can’t ignore someone who needs my help. But that isn’t the reason I want you to stay.”

She looked up at him, tears trickling down her face. “What is it?”

“You're my daughter.” He wrapped his arms around Nikki, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, crying into his shirt. “If there's one thing I learned growing up with my dad, it is you should never turn your back on family. He wasn’t always there for me but I promise I will be there for you.” He looked down fondly at her. “Besides, you're a great kid. Who wouldn't want you around?”

She looked up at him. “Do you really mean that?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded. “I really do.” She smiled and pulled away, wiping her eyes. “That doesn't mean it's going to be easy,” he cautioned. “There's a lot that needs to be sorted out.” He hesitated. “It might be best if you stay here for now. I'll need time to talk to Juliet.” He wondered how she would take it. They had been taking their relationship pretty slow and only just moved in together. Suddenly throwing a kid into the mix was a huge step forward.

“What are you going to tell her? And your dad?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or should I say grandpa?”

Shawn shuddered. “I can't even imagine how _that_ conversation ends well.” His dad would kill him. He had always told Shawn to be responsible and this had to count as the most irresponsible thing he had ever done. He groaned, covering his face in his hands. They had been getting along so well lately too.

“We could keep it a secret.”

He looked at Nikki in surprise. He couldn't have heard her right. “What?”

“We could keep it a secret,” she repeated. “People keep this kind of thing quiet all the time. And I know your dad will be a lot more lenient on me if he didn’t know I was his granddaughter.” She made a face. “It’s going to be really weird calling him Mr. Spencer now.”

“I can’t deny you’re probably right about my dad. He definitely won’t give you a break because you’re blood.” Just look at what happened to him with the borrowed car. “But I’m not sure I like this. It makes it seem like I’m ashamed of you.” The whole idea was making him uncomfortable. Sure, he kept secrets from people all the time, but never one this big; this topped not being psychic and lying to the police by a mile.

“It was my idea” she reminded him. “I know you're not ashamed of me. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.” She looked down, fiddling with a hole in her jeans. “I've already disrupted you're life enough,” she said quietly. “I don't want to cause any more trouble. This will give us both time to get used to it before everyone finds out.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He had to admit it would make things a lot easier for him. But this wasn't just about him, it was about Nikki too. She would have to live with the lie just as much as he would. He wasn't sure he could ask such a thing of her.

“I'm sure.” She looked up at him, face serious. “You've done so much to help me already. It's my turn to help you.”

He studied her face, seeing how determined she was to do this. “Okay,” he said. “But only until I get things sorted out. _Then_ we tell everyone.” That shouldn't take too long. A couple of weeks, tops.

“Deal,” she said, smiling at him. “Besides, I'll see you all the time anyway. I am your psychic apprentice.”

Shawn smiled back. “Yes, you are. And speaking of which,” he said, standing up. “I believe last time I was here, I was educating you on the finer points of 80's filmography.” He took her hand and pulled her off the table. “No daughter of mine should be that ignorant of such an important period of movie history.”

She rolled her eyes as he led her into the house. “Whatever you say, dad.”

* * *

Henry pulled up to the house and shut off the truck. He had stretched out his errands as long as he could but eventually he had to return to home. He had given Shawn plenty of time to clear things up with Nikki. He hoped his son had succeeded. He had dealt with enough teenage drama while Shawn was growing up to want a repeat.

He took a moment to survey the scene. Shawn's bike was still parked in the driveway. His son must still be here, unless he called someone for a ride. Either way, it would be best to enter the house cautiously. He got out of the truck, quietly closing the door behind him.

He walked to the door, looking for any signs of movement from the windows. All he saw was a flickering light in the front room. He slowly opened the door and listened for the sounds of arguing. He could hear the TV playing but nothing else. It was oddly quiet considering Shawn was there, but at least there was no yelling.

“Shawn? Nikki?” he called out, shutting the door behind him. No answer. Feeling a little foolish for sneaking around in his own home, he crept through the kitchen and peeked around the doorway into the living room.

Shawn was sitting on the couch with an arm wrapped around Nikki. She was nestled up against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder. Both of them were fast asleep.

He walked silently through the room to turn off the TV, then retreated back to the doorway. He looked at the two of them, deep in thought. Shawn had always been a bit of a slacker. That fact had frustrated him immensely while Shawn was growing up. His son would have been a great cop, if only he could have stayed focused and applied himself. Henry had eventually accepted the fact that that was just the way Shawn was. His son rarely took anything seriously.

But Shawn took Nikki seriously.

In fact, he had never seen Shawn work harder on a case. It gave him hope that his son might finally be growing up. It was about damn time.

Nikki shifted against Shawn in her sleep and he tightened his hold on her. It was unthinking, a reflexive movement by his unconscious mind. Instinctive, one might even say. Henry smiled, thinking about how protective Shawn had grown of Nikki over the past week. His son had always cared about other people but he was especially considerate and watchful of her needs. And he was good with her, this morning notwithstanding. All skills that any good parent needed.

Henry chuckled softly to himself. Sure, Shawn would make a great father, someday. Too bad it wouldn't be anytime soon. He quietly headed upstairs, leaving the two on the couch to their slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be up tomorrow.


	18. Epilogue: The Same, But Different

_Monday. . ._

  
  


_Again_

  
  


The morning light shone down on the city. Its warm glow illuminated the coastal streets and the string of buildings along the boardwalk. At the end of one building, with a particularly nice view of the beach, there was an office with bright green lettering on the window. 

Most people were at work at this time of day, but a few were walking the boardwalk or lounging on the beach, enjoying the beautiful weather. The calm ocean and brilliant blue sky combined to create a peaceful, relaxing atmosphere.

The occupants inside the office were too distracted by their game to notice.

“Dude, seriously, knock it off,” Gus said, glaring at Shawn. His character had just died for the fifth time that morning.

“My hand slipped,” Shawn said with a smirk. “I am playing with an injury.” He held up his bandaged right hand as proof.

“That's it, Shawn,” Gus said, turning back to the game. “You've killed me for the last time.” He started mashing buttons, staring intently at the screen.

“Doubt it,” Shawn said confidently. “You say that every time we play. Your problem is that you're too trusting.” He gasped dramatically as his character was blown to bits by a grenade. “Dude, not cool.”

“And _your_ problem is that you talk too much,” Gus said smugly.

“I do not talk too much,” Shawn said indignantly. “I'm just trying to share some of my vast wisdom with the world.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Shawn and Gus turned around. “Hi Nikki,” Shawn said, a warm smile filling his face. She smiled shyly back. Things were better since their talk yesterday, but this new father/daughter relationship would take some getting used to.

“Hi.” She looked with interest at the screen. “What are you guys doing?”

On screen Gus's character died once again. “Not playing video games,” Gus grumbled. He reached over and shut off the console.

“You don't need to stop because of me,” she said quickly.

Shawn grinned. “Gus is just a sore loser.”

“That's not why.” Gus stood up with a glower. “It's because you cheat.” He nodded at Nikki and walked over to his desk.

“Then why do you keep playing with me?” Shawn called after him. Gus was saved from coming up with a response by the phone ringing. He answered it, turning his back on Shawn.

Nikki took advantage of the open seat and plopped down next to Shawn. “So this is what a psychic detective does between cases?”

“Pretty much.” He glanced over at her. “How's the arm?”

“Better.” She pulled up her sleeve to show him a fresh bandage. “It's starting to itch.”

“Good. That means it's healing.” He looked at her sternly. “Make sure to keep changing the bandages. You don't want it to get infected.”

She gave him an amused grin. “You're not going to get all overprotective every time I get a scrape, are you?”

“It's not a scrape, you were shot,” he said defensively. “And of course I'm going to be overprotective. I’m your father; it’s in the job description.” Saying the words out loud felt weird. He had thought, someday, of having kids, but that had always been just a vague idea, somewhere far off in the future. Even now with Juliet, kids would have still been a ways down the road. Last week he would have said in a few years, maybe. Now he suddenly found himself with one.

He noticed his daughter staring at him. “What?”

She looked away, blushing. “It's nice. Having a father, I mean.” She cleared her throat, glancing at him slyly. “Even if he cheats.”

“You better watch it, young lady,” he said, trying to channel Henry's gruff tone. “Or you're grounded.” He managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, until Nikki snorted. Then he couldn’t hold the laughter back anymore and she soon joined in.

“That was the Chief,” Gus said, walking over. He watched the two of them laughing for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

“Never mind,” Shawn said, waving a hand. “Do we have a case?” he asked hopefully.

“Burglary down town,” Gus said. “They think it's related to the one from last week.” Shawn remembered Juliet talking about a robbery, but had been too distracted at the time to find out more.

“Can I come?” Nikki asked eagerly.

Shawn hesitated. “Well. . . ” She looked pleadingly at him. “Vick said she doesn't want you at the crime scenes,” he said apologetically.

She pouted, slumping back on the couch. After a moment, she looked up at him. “What did she say exactly?”

He thought back to the conversation a few days ago. A slow smile crept across his face. “That she doesn't want to hear about you _wandering_ _around_ crime scenes.”

“If I stayed by you, I wouldn't be wandering around,” she said, getting excited. “I'd be under your supervision the whole time.” She grinned cheekily at him. “After all, the Chief didn't say I couldn't _go_ to a crime scene. I just can't _wander_.”

“That's my girl,” he said proudly. “Work those loopholes!”

Gus sighed in disgust. “The two of you are going to get us in trouble.”

“Just one more thing,” Nikki said, suddenly serious.

Shawn frowned. “What?”

Nikki grinned. “Shotgun!” She jumped up and ran out the door.

He sputtered, getting off the couch. “Wait! You can't call shotgun,” he called after her.

Gus grinned at him. “Welcome to fatherhood, Shawn,” he said, following Nikki out the door.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. This whole being a dad thing was going to be harder than he thought. It would mean some pretty big changes in his life. He hoped he was up to the challenge.

Outside, a horn honked impatiently. “Come on, dad!” Nikki called. He could hear Gus scolding her for touching the steering wheel.

He grinned to himself. Change can be a good thing. A week ago he had been sitting here, bored, hoping for something interesting to walk through the door. It was hard to believe so much had happened in so little time.

Now he had a new case, with his best friend and daughter waiting for him to get started. He chuckled to himself. He doubted 'bored' would be something he would be experiencing anytime soon.

“Challenge accepted,” he said quietly, before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the story, even if it took me longer than I expected to post it. Let me know what you thought by leaving a review.
> 
> Now that this rewrite is finished, I'll be starting work again on the sequel, Revenge For the Nerd. I'll try to get the next chapter of that up for you guys soon.


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